


we keep this love in a photograph

by honeyuta



Series: photograph [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: (kinda), Alternate Universe - Small Town, Fluff and Humor, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Romance, Slice of Life, everyone shows up at some point - Freeform, i worked hard pls appreciate, jeno is the best friend we all need, oh hansol is in here too!, they live in a cute lil town, very brief though, yutae are That Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 07:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18823621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyuta/pseuds/honeyuta
Summary: “You’re in love with him.”“I’m not.”“You’re in love with him.”“I’m not.”“You’re in love with him.”“I’m in love with him.”“Attaboy.”Or, after five long years, Mark returns from Canada, and his arrival entails a multitude of Extremely Fun™ plans and activities. For Donghyuck, however, it only means unwanted confrontations with his feelings, an onslaught of ‘What Ifs’ and a few hundred hours of heavy contemplation.





	we keep this love in a photograph

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yeoseonghwa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeoseonghwa/gifts).



> this is dedicated to my lovely beta (who doesn’t do any beta-ing), my support system, my big sister. i love you, you noob <3
> 
> anyway, hey guys! your not-so-favourite writer is back with 21k of nonsense that was supposed to be posted back in march but look at where procrastination has brought us yeehaw. no but i worked really hard on this,, this is my longest fic till date pls show me some love :’)
> 
> okay guys, before you read, a quick heads-up: this is my first time writing a fic in which yuta is not the main character, and considering my love for him, it would’ve been near impossible for me to write one without him featuring in it. yuta and taeyong play very pivotal roles in this, and my bias for yuta shows clearly on a number of occasions. if you find that annoying or something, i suggest you back away. pls don’t hate on his character (i’m looking at you, hyung)
> 
> and without any further ado, sit back, excuse any mistakes (there are going to be mistakes, trust me) and enjoy!

On a somewhat bright winter morning, Lee Jeno looks up from his phone and announces, “Mark hyung is coming back.”

Jaemin and Renjun are the only ones there—it’s too early for anyone else in their little friend circle to be awake, and it’s a miracle that Renjun is even up and about at this hour on a weekend in the first place, but nonetheless, they’re there—and their reactions are no less than what Jeno had expected them to be.

Renjun’s mouth falls open instantaneously. After the initial shock, Jaemin manages to pull himself together with mild difficulty to say, rather dumbly, “What?”

Jeno looks up from where he had been tapping away in earnest at his phone—he’s probably talking to Mark and it all feels so surreal—and smiles, with his eyes crinkling up at the corners and his shiny teeth on full display. “You heard me.”

Jaemin blinks at him and so does Renjun, and Jeno blinks back, and they keep blinking at each other until Renjun speaks up. “Mark Lee?” he questions incredulously.

“Mark Lee,” Jeno confirms, holding up his phone to show them the screen. The contact name at the top of the screen reads, ‘Markie Hyung’ followed by a number of rather obnoxious emoticons that, in no way, relate to each other. The chat is simple, and it is all plainly written out right in front of them, but Dumb and Dumber still have difficulty in comprehending the situation and the fact that it is _very real._

The conversation goes a little like this:

_jeno! how are you?_

 

_mark hyung!!!_

_i’m great, what’s up with you?_

_how’s canada and all?_

 

_canada’s alright…_

_okay tbh, it’s gotten real goddamn boring_ _a_ _fter being here so long_

 _i’m just too used to things and nothing’s really i_ _nt_ _e_ _resting anymore, u kno?_

 

_oh?_

_well at least it must feel nice being back home_

_right?_

 

_i guess haha_

 

_well, either way, to what do i owe this pleasure?_

_we haven’t talked in so long!!_

 

_yeah, i’m really sorry about that ^^”_

_i’ve been meaning to get in touch but i’ve_ _been so busy haha_

_actually i wanted to talk to you about that_

 

_???_

 

_i—um…_

_i’m coming back to korea_

 

Renjun blinks. Jaemin blinks. Jeno blinks.

“Can we please stop blinking?” Jeno sighs exasperatedly.

It is at this point that Jaemin’s senses seem to kick in and he scrambles clumsily for his phone, almost dropping it in his haste to unlock it at as fast as possible. “We have to tell the others,” he mumbles distractedly, scrolling through his contacts and after tapping another one or two times, he puts the phone to his ear, knees bouncing up and down incessantly as he impatiently listens to the monotonous trilling and waits for the call to connect.

He doesn’t even give Jisung the chance to mutter a greeting, and he doesn’t bother himself with the pleasantries either, for he says, in a mix of excitement and confusion, “Mark hyung’s coming back. Tell Chenle.”

“Wait—what? Mark hyung— _what?_ And how did you—”

“You’re not fooling anyone, Sung-ah, you and Lele are practically glued together, like, all the time. Anyway, tell him, and come over later to Jeno’s. Oh, and bring, like, cookies or something. This calls for celebration.”

At this point, Jeno has gone back to his furious tapping, and Renjun sits quietly on the floor beside where Jaemin is nestled comfortably in one of the three bean bags scattered across Jeno’s room, still a little lost.  

“Shouldn’t we celebrate, like, with Mark hyung? Because… Mark hyung’s return is what we’re celebrating?” Jisung mumbles questioningly. Renjun seems to have snapped out of his trance, for he’s conscious enough to snicker at Jisung’s muffled remark which he hears because Jeno’s typing is the only sound that fills the air. Jaemin spares him a scathing glare before continuing with his conversation.

“Are you going to bring the cookies or not? It’s a simple yes or no question, Jisung, there’s really no need to expend all of your brain cells thinking it over—you already have so few to begin with.”

Jisung sighs audibly, “Fine, we’ll get the cookies. But I’ll make sure that there’s one less for you.”

“Okay, great! I gotta tell Hyuck now, love ya, bye.” He hears faint shuffling on the other end just as he’s about to hang up and he hears Jisung say, presumably to Chenle, “Mark hyung’s coming back,” which is followed by loud clattering and a surprised shriek, but he doesn’t get to listen in further than that because the line disconnects and then all he can hear is the beeping that indicates that the call is over.

“Nice to know they’re awake,” Jeno mumbles without looking up from his phone. Renjun, who’s resumed his staring, hums noncommittally. Jaemin, deep in the search for Donghyuck’s contact, snickers, “Probably busy coming up with different ways of burning Lele’s kitchen down. Ah, here it is.” He hesitates momentarily before pressing down on it, glancing over at Renjun while worrying at his lower lip. “He’d be asleep, wouldn’t he? It’s—what—9 am on a weekend. There’s no chance of him being awake.”

“Well, I would be sleeping too if it weren’t for you two asshats, but we don’t always get what we want now, do we?” Renjun answers bitingly.

“Right, why do I even bother asking...” Jaemin mumbles sarcastically, holding the phone to his ear a second time. It takes a while, but the call connects eventually.

To say that Donghyuck is in a bad mood would be an understatement.

“You have exactly ten seconds to explain why the _hell_ you’re calling me at ass o’clock on a Saturday morning or I’m revoking your friendship card.”

Jaemin grins, pearly whites glinting in the sunlight filtering in through the windows of Jeno’s room. “Gee, morning to you too, Hyuck,” he greets jovially.

_“Nana.”_

Jaemin smiles again.

“Mark hyung is coming back.”

 

* * *

 

Objectively, falling out of your bed onto hardwood flooring first thing in the morning _isn’t_ the best way to start your day.

Unfortunately, that is exactly how Lee Donghyuck’s day starts.

What was meant to be a perfectly harmless, relaxing Saturday that involved staying safely burrowed under the covers all day because exams just got over and a day (or maybe even a week) of rest is well-deserved and above all, much-needed, is turning out to be so… not-harmless because this absolutely _isn’t_ the way he expected his day(s) of leisure to go. And that doesn’t bode well with Donghyuck, or at least, it isn’t _supposed_ to bode well, because he has been dreaming of being granted this luxury of sitting around and doing nothing all day with a mug of hot chocolate to accompany him—which would soon be followed by four more and would eventually result in having to make an impromptu trip to the convenience store to get _more_ hot chocolate—for _days,_ where any interference, even a minor one, would be extremely unwelcome. Donghyuck has had this mapped and charted out in his head since his first exam, but somehow this interference doesn’t seem to be as unwelcome as he’d expected it to be.

“Hyuck? Are you okay?”

It’s Jaemin’s voice ringing out softly through the speaker of his phone that forces him to reign in his musings and only then does he realize that he’s still on the floor and oh _—_ that explains why it was getting so cold.

“Yeah, I’m—” he struggles to push himself off the wood into a sitting position, and he rearranges himself to sit with his back pressed against the side of his bed, cradling his phone anxiously in his hands, “—I’m fine. You—You said something? About M—Mark hyung?”

He can _hear_ Jaemin’s cheeky grin when he replies. “Just that he’s coming back.”

“Oh, well,” he clears his throat to rid it of its hoarseness, and also because he isn’t quite sure how to reply, because essentially he had just been told, _‘Hey, your bestest friend from like, twenty years ago is coming back after like, twenty years from his home country, where he had shifted to on a whim like, twenty years back and left you here to rot, so. Oh, by the way, good morning,’_ so he scratches at his nape and asks, “Where are you guys?”

“We’re at Jeno’s, Renjun’s with me and Jisung and Chenle’ll be here soon. Come over?”

“Yeah, I’ll be over soon. Give me a half-hour to forty-five minutes max.”

“Great!” Jaemin beams happily, and the fact that he’s so overzealous this early in the morning gives Donghyuck a headache. “Oh, and bring cookies!”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes tiredly.

“Yeah, whatever.”

 

* * *

 

“So,” Jisung starts once everyone has gathered in Jeno’s room and made themselves comfortable in the exact spots they always sit in—Jisung is on one of the three beanbags, the one near the window, Chenle’s dragged the rotating chair that’s supposed to be in front of Jeno’s study table to where Jisung is to sit next to him and he keeps spinning as always, Jaemin and Renjun are on another of the beanbags and the floor, respectively (they haven’t budged an inch since they’d arrived at eight), Donghyuck occupies the beanbag next to the bed, where Jeno’s sprawled out across the length of it, munching busily on his cookies (it’s a miracle he hasn’t choked and died yet). At the foot of the bed lies an abnormally large box of cookies, stacked onto another similar one, both packed neatly in intricately designed boxes branded with the logo of the only bakery in town.

“So,” Donghyuck repeats from across the room, looking around at everyone for their reactions. He licks his lips nervously and continues, “What—What is all of this about Mark coming back?”

Jeno peeks over at him from the bed, then pulls out his phone, taps on the screen a few times and tosses it over to him. “Show Jisung and Lele too,” he says, jabbing his thumb towards where Chenle’s revolving and Jisung looks like he’s having an existential crisis.

Donghyuck lifts himself off of where he had accommodated himself nicely with a reluctant groan, but he does it nonetheless because he wants to know to what extent all of this is legitimate.

He hands the phone to Jisung and squats down on his left so that he can get a good look at the screen, and Chenle stops his shenanigans and wheels over to his  right. Jisung holds up the phone and they quickly scan through the messages. The conversation has a few new additions, of course, because Jeno had replied, although with a little bit of a delay thanks to the shock.

 

_hey, you there?_

_i hope i didn’t scare you off haha_

 

_no no i’m here!_

_well,, you did give us a little bit of a shock ngl_

 

_us???_

 

 _yeah jaem and injunnie are here with me and j_ _aem told like practically everyone already so yeah, ‘us’_

 

_oh_

_well what did they say?_

 

_everyone’s freaking_

_but that’s besides the point_

_when are you coming back???_

_and why???_

_i mean, not that we have any problem or_ _anything,, i’m just really curious u kno_

 

_yeah, of course you would be_

_uh, i think i’ll land this week friday evening?_

_flight’s on thursday,, tickets’re booked and_ _everything_

 _i was kinda hoping you guys would come to pick_ _me up at the airport? unless you have school of_ _c_ _ourse,, in which case i’ll meet up with you later_

 

_school’s out for the holidays hyung_

_you’ve not gotten any smarter i see_

 

Donghyuck snorts in amusement.

 

_yeah yeah whatever_

_anyway i’ll let you know the timings n all_

_and ik you’re adults now but_ _for the love of all things holy,_ **_please_ ** _bring_ _a… a different adult. please._

 

_i’m sooo looking forward to your arrival gee_

 

_it’s nice to be back too jen_

“What—does he think that he’s all grown up now just because he’s a—a _year_ older than us?” Donghyuck scoffs heatedly, waving his cookie about in the air for emphasis. “Well, you can have him know that we can handle ourselves _just fine!_ We don’t need a _different_ adult!”

 

* * *

 

“Remind me why I’m here again?” Yuta asks tentatively, looking around at the bustling crowd with hesitant eyes. “I haven’t been to one of these since I arrived here ten years ago. I can see why.”

“Well, we originally wanted to bring Taeyong hyung along. You’re only here ’cause he’s busy,” Donghyuck replies airily.

Yuta sticks his tongue out at him. “Don’t lie, Hyuckie, Yong told me that you’d wanted both of us to tag along. Well, essentially, you’re the ones tagging along since I’m supposed to be your—your supervisor or babysitter or whatever sounds nicer, but yeah, same difference.”

Donghyuck opens his mouth to retaliate with the insult he’s got on the tip of his tongue, but Renjun butts in before things escalate. “Well, we’d figured that you would be better suited for this kind of stuff, y’know. Airports and stuff.”

“You guys act like I _live_ in an airport,” Yuta points out flatly, but then he breaks out into one of his beautiful smiles—the ones that leave you breathless for some reason unknown. “I can’t say I’m not flattered, though,” he laughs, and then his tone takes on a more sheepish edge as he continues, “but I’m not too sure if I can help much with the bags.”

Jaemin, who’s practically glued to Yuta’s side, looks at him with his eyes crinkled up in a smile that bears an uncanny resemblance to Yuta’s, and says happily, “That’s no problem, hyung! We have Jeno, anyway.”

Yuta laughs at that and Jeno glares at him, muttering, “I’m _right_ here.”

“I know!” Jaemin beams. “That’s what I just said!”

Everyone sighs audibly, when Jisung pipes up excitedly all of a sudden, “I think—I think I see him!”

Chenle jumps up and down impatiently from behind him and Jeno, trying his best to sneak a peek over their shoulders while standing on his tippy-toes. “I can’t see anything!” he complains. “Jisung, get your big ass head out of the way—it’s blocking the view!”

Jisung mutters a soft, _‘I_ **_am_ ** _the view,’_ under his breath but complies nonetheless, stepping aside just enough to provide a gap for Chenle to squeeze through. Maybe having him in front is a good idea after all—with how jumpy he is, it’s near-impossible to focus on anything else in the frame.

“Oh! _Oh!_ I see him! Guys, _I see him!”_ he says excitedly, quite literally bouncing in his spot. “Jisung, the placard _—the placard!_ ”  

“Oh,” Jisung whispers in realization, scrambling to hold up the plac Yuta had given him earlier. It’s a rather obnoxious one, to be honest; in spite of the cardboard being covered carefully with yellow chart paper—with no ends sticking out anywhere—and Mark’s name scrawled neatly in English onto it in Yuta’s pretty handwriting, it’s what the sign says that’s obnoxious. _‘Mark Leeeeee,’_ it reads, with exactly that many ‘E’s, for Yuta had said that simply ‘Mark Lee,’ or ‘Mark,’ or ‘마크,’ would be too plain and that they needed to spice it up to let Mark know that _yes,_ these are the people whom he had spent practically all of his childhood with. So spice it up is exactly what they did.  

He holds it up high, so that Mark can see it clearly—it’s useless, really, Jisung thinks that there’s no need for a placard in the first place, with how everyone in their little group is jumping up and down like a bunch of chipmunks high on caffeine, waving their arms about madly and screaming _‘Mark!’_ and _‘Mark hyung!’_ at the top of their lungs.

Either way, whether it’s thanks to the blindingly bright signboard or the random group of high teenagers jumping around like madmen, Mark’s attention is drawn to them in an instant, much like everyone else’s is as they pass by, and for a minute he looks thoroughly confused before his expression morphs into one that’s a mix of recognition and embarrassment. But perhaps the pure, childlike joy sparkling in his eyes overshadows everything and anything else. He beams radiantly, and hiking one of the trillion bags he’s brought along higher up his shoulder, he starts to make his way over to them with his two suitcases rolling along noisily behind him.

Donghyuck, who has kept silent (well, as silent as Lee Donghyuck can be) this entire time, seizes this opportunity to take a good look at Mark Lee after what’s probably been five whole years.

Mark has grown. _A lot._ Donghyuck remembers him as a skinny little runt with narrow shoulders and bony fingers—they all were skinny runts back then, come to think of it—and a rather questionable fashion sense with floppy black hair that was almost permanently hidden by a snapback because he used to think it was _cool._

A lot has changed now, if what Donghyuck is witnessing is anything to go by. Time has been kind to Mark, he notices, with how his features are more pronounced now—his cheekbones are conspicuous with how they jut out the slightest bit and his jawline is noticeably sharper in a way that it wasn’t back then, but his eyes still sparkle with the fervor they always used to and although he looks a far cry from the Mark Lee that Donghyuck had grown up with, his eyes are so unmistakably _Mark_ that it gives it away.

His shoulders have grown broader, and he looks much healthier and more pleasant to look at than a few years ago. His hair, which still flops onto his forehead in a way that compels him to blow it away from his eyes every two minutes, has been dyed and is currently a pretty shade of brown. In conclusion, Mark Lee has—for lack of a better word— _glowed up._

After what feels like _hours,_  he reaches where they’re standing and stops, pushing the strap of his bag higher onto his shoulder again. He dithers nervously for a bit; even the rowdy bunch they had formed quietens down and then they stare at each other. Well, it’s mostly Jisung and Chenle staring and Mark’s eyes darting around anxiously and this goes on for a while, until their _babysitter_ decides to take matters into his own hands.

Yuta pushes through the group until he reaches the front and is face-to-face with Mark, and Donghyuck realizes then that _goddamn,_ he’s grown so freaking _tall, oh God._ He’s Yuta’s height now—maybe even a few centimeters taller than him and the thought frightens Donghyuck, because what in the _world_ do they feed kids in Canada?

“Yuta hyung,” he says, a little breathlessly because Yuta does that to people, but the only thing Donghyuck can focus on is _was his voice always that deep? I don’t remember his voice being that deep—since when was his voice that deep?_

Yuta seizes him by the shoulders and sizes him up, and Mark looks more nervous now than he did earlier if anything because everyone knows about Mark’s not-so-little crush on Yuta back in the day, and the aftereffects must not have worn off just yet, if his reaction is anything to go by. After Yuta’s given him a thorough once-over, he locks eyes with him and then, he breaks out into the most brilliant smile ever.

“Welcome back, Markie,” he greets warmly, eyes crinkling up at the corners.

And just like that, the tension that had had Mark so high-strung seeps out of him; his shoulders relax considerably and a smile of his own spreads slowly across his face.

It makes Donghyuck’s heart skip a beat.

In a few minutes, after a number of hurried hugs (and a big, wet smooch from Jaemin), they’re on their merry little way to the exit, with Chenle and Jaemin talking Mark’s ears off—about what’s changed since the last time he was here (not much, really), the places they want him to visit, and some of the _“juicy stuff,”_ as Jaemin puts it, as well. Jeno, Jisung and Renjun, although they’re not as _showy_ about it, are clearly just as excited about the new presence in their group; they join in here and there in the conversation, either to take a jab at the two who are talking as if they don’t need air, or simply to voice their own opinions. Yuta butts in too, from time to time, though his main focus is on figuring out which part of town Mark’s apartment residence is tucked away in. Donghyuck watches all of this unfold, content with how he’s practically invisible at the moment; it gives him time to think, about Mark’s arrival, about how probably nothing’s going to go the way it did yesterday, about how his life is going to change starting from today when everything’s been the same for almost nineteen years now.

Donghyuck finds the thought rather terrifying, and so he decides to push it away for the time being and focus on the conversation instead. When he comes to, Renjun and Yuta are bickering rather heatedly about something—what exactly, Donghyuck doesn’t quite know (he’s not sure he even _wants_ to know). No one really makes an effort to put a stop to things, because their arguments are always highly amusing.

Donghyuck finds himself thoroughly entertained, relishing the way Renjun’s face turns a bright red after one of Yuta’s remarks.

In spite of being so caught up in the happenings in front of him, Donghyuck hears Mark’s voice, when he says—to no one in particular, “They haven’t changed one bit, have they?”

Jaemin smiles softly, his eyes twinkling with fondness. “Not one bit.”

And even as they hail two different cabs and squish themselves into the small cars in two groups of four (Donghyuck happens to end up in the same car along with Yuta and Jisung), Donghyuck can’t help but wonder.

 _Apart from your appearance,_ he thinks, stealing a quick glance at who once used to be the closest friend in his life, and who is now deep asleep with his head, which is resting against the window, bobbing up and down furiously thanks to the bumpy roads that wind their way into town, _you haven’t changed much either._

 

* * *

 

See, the thing is—Donghyuck _knows._

He _knows_ exactly why his heart had been fluttering throughout the cab ride to town until Yuta had dropped them all off at the address Mark had given him—a quaint little four-storeyed apartment building where he had rented out a room. They had all clambered out of the cabs and into the homely-looking building; after unpacking just a little and helping Mark settle down a bit, they were slated to go out and show him around town and quiz him on how much he remembered. As much as they had wanted Yuta to join, he had, whilst furiously blushing, confessed that he had _plans_ with Taeyong and that he couldn’t hang around if he wanted to be on time. ( _Gross,_ Donghyuck thinks. _Absolutely gross._ )

He _knows_ why he kept stealing glances at Mark the entire evening, and he _knows_ why his heartbeat picked up pace each time Mark caught his eyes and smiled that beautiful smile of his. And he _knows_ why it’s doing the same thing now—when he’s lying in bed and unrealistically vivid images of what Mark looked like when they were watching the sun set and everything was enveloped in a glowy orange haze flashing in front of his eyes. He just _knows._

And the truth of the matter is: Donghyuck has known for a long time, before Mark even left for Canada all those years ago.

Donghyuck likes Mark.

He likes him _very much._

And that’s alright, he had supposed—everyone has crushes on their friends at that age, when hormones start doing their thing and bring your entire life crashing down. You stop looking at them like they hold all the stars in the sky eventually. It fades, much like everything else in life. It’s only natural.

Except, for Donghyuck, it hasn’t quite faded just yet.

And the thought scares him. _Immensely._

See now, back then, Donghyuck had been faced with a problem which, in hindsight, seems much more serious than the one he’s dealing with now. He hadn’t even known whether Mark liked boys. He had seen him staring at pretty girls in school, and it had hurt just a little each time. But back then he had always told himself that his little infatuation with Mark was only temporary, and that it was all fine. So the thing is, it didn’t bother him much. And then Donghyuck started noticing the way Mark looked at Yuta—if you looked closely enough, you’d find that it was different from the way he looked at girls, if only slightly. But then it became more and more obtrusive, until Mark stopped even _glancing_ at people of the opposite sex and others in their friend circle started noticing as well. Yuta remained as oblivious as ever, and a few months later Taeyong had asked him out, and then a year passed and Mark left for Canada, so nothing ever became of that.

 _Okay, so Mark likes boys. But then, what good would that do, now that he’s gone?_ Donghyuck remembers thinking to himself a week or so after Mark had left. And then time did its thing—Donghyuck eventually glazed over his liking-your-best-friend phase and although he never forgot about Mark—he doesn’t think he ever could—and he remained stowed away at the back of his head as a thought that always brought a smile to his face, Donghyuck started thinking about him less and less because school and maintaining his friendships started to assume more importance.

So, a few days later, when Donghyuck had looked at a group photograph where he has his arms wound firmly around Mark’s neck, and Mark’s, in turn, are loosely hanging around his middle, and nothing stirs inside of him when he sees the expressions of pure happiness painting their faces and the intimate position they’re in—it was only natural for him to assume that he had completely gotten over him; the photo did nothing except for evoking a twinge of sadness and nostalgia. He had stared at it for a bit with a smile of fond remembrance playing at his lips, and then he had pinned it to the softboard looming over the desk in his room.

 _The photograph,_ Donghyuck gasps, sitting up in his bed with a start. _That’s it!_

He shuffles out of bed as noiselessly as he can and pads over to the other end of the room where the board is. He switches on the lamp positioned on the top of his desk, and his gaze immediately zeroes in on the photo—he knows exactly where it is, he’s looked at it enough times to know.

He takes his time in reaching where he stands with Mark, and instead starts from the opposite end of the picture. Everyone’s there—even the three kids from theater that they hadn’t even known back then (and whom they know far too well now), Hendery, Xiaojun and Yangyang—a total of 22 people. It was taken just a few days before Mark was slated to leave—Johnny had insisted on giving him something that could act as memorabilia; something he could look at when he was missing home. ( _‘Canada might be your like, official home or whatever,’_ he had said, _‘but this is where you belong.’_ )

Taeyong and Yuta were almost a year-old couple by then, and they were (and still are) the most touchy couple Donghyuck has ever known. The position they’re in is quite similar to his and Mark’s, but there’s _something_ that makes it seem disparate. Taeyong’s arm is hooked firmly around Yuta’s waist, and Yuta’s arms are around his shoulders. He isn’t even looking at the camera—his face is turned towards Taeyong’s, his nose touching the older’s cheek, and they’re so, _so_ close, and—

Donghyuck shudders and quickly looks past them. There’s Youngho and Ten, making some weird matching poses and being Youngho and Ten, there’s Jaehyun and Doyoung, arm-in-arm with their heads their touching and their other arms held up to their foreheads in salutation, there’s Sicheng—with Taeil on his back for some reason, with Hansol next to them, grinning at the camera while pointing towards them with a big thumbs-up. (Donghyuck realizes then that he’s missed Hansol more than he’d thought ever since he graduated and had to move to a bigger town for uni—one that a little ways away from their small one. He supposes he’ll ask Taeil or Yuta about how he’s doing). Then there’s Kun, with the other Chinese kids (Renjun, Chenle, the three kids from theater, and Yukhei too) swarming around him like devoted ducklings, Jisung’s head peeks out from behind Chenle’s shoulders, and Jungwoo stands next to Yukhei, his eyes creasing at the corners with how wide his smile is. Next to them are Jeno and Jaemin, with their backs to each other, looking into the camera like they’re in a poster for some sort of Nickelodeon show—and lastly, there’s him and Mark.

He gazes closely at the two of them. He blinks. Looks again. And then repeats the process, at least two more times.

He purses his lips, switches off the lamp, turns resolutely around and marches over to bed, where he tries to suffocate himself with a pillow.

The rest of the night is spent trying to will his heartbeat to slow down, until he finally drifts off into a fitful sleep.

He’d deal with this in the morning.

 

* * *

 

Morning comes far too quickly for Donghyuck’s liking, but he’d be lying if he says that he didn’t forget about the dilemma that had kept him up last night for a hot minute there.

Kicking the blankets off of where they had entangled themselves firmly with his legs, he pushes himself out of bed and the following half-hour is spent going about his morning routine as usual. He isn’t quite sure what he’s getting ready for but he doesn’t doubt for a second that Jaemin and Jeno had already crafted elaborate plans for the entire day that would run well into the evening and maybe even the night—especially with Mark’s arrival, there were definitely going to be a lot of activities on their itinerary. And if that wasn’t the case—which wasn’t very likely—plans would come to them rather than them having to go after plans. That’s how life worked in their little town.

“Ma! I’m going out!” he calls from the top of the staircase, which he then proceeds to descend two steps at a time, jumping off from the third-last step with a rather pretentious flourish. He makes it to the front door just as his mother pokes her head out from the kitchen.

“Jeno’s?” she inquires with a raised eyebrow.

Donghyuck shrugs. “I don’t quite know yet. Probably there or Nana’s. Or Chenle’s or Jisungs’s or Renjun’s—maybe even Taeyong and Yuta hyung’s. I’ll be back by—I don’t know that either actually. My phone’s dead, so no use calling me! Just—I should be back by dinner, and if I’m not, send like, a search party or something. Love ya, bye!”

And with that, he waltzes out the front door, down the three steps jutting out of the porch, and onto the road, happily tuning out the warning of _“Hyuck!”_ that floats after him.

As he walks at a leisurely pace through the streets on the way to Jeno’s house (he seems to have gone there enough times for his feet to be able to carry him there on their own, allowing him room for thought—whether that is a bane or a boon, Donghyuck has yet to decide), Donghyuck startles when he realizes that he hasn’t thought—not in depth, at least—about last night’s situation even once since he woke up. What surprises him the most is that he recalls faintly the thought of Mark popping up in his head when he was thinking about what plans Jeno and Jaemin must have come up with, and the fact that he hadn’t thought about the photograph and the tiny little crisis that had arisen since he’d looked closely at it was very un-Donghyuck-like.

With a loud groan, Donghyuck wonders when the universe will stop screwing him over all the time. His exams ended just a week ago, and what was supposed to be a nice, peaceful month of vacation had turned into a stressful 30 days of heavy contemplation about whether he was crushing on one of his closest friends—a crush he had thought he had done away with—until school rolled around again and all the work took his mind away from… everything.

He looks up from where his eyes were trained on the ground to soak in the ambience of the neighbourhood. The birds are chirping from wherever they’re stowed away deep in the crevices of their trees, the leaves of which sway slightly with the soft breeze that sweeps past every once in a while. There are two kids playing on the curb across the road; Donghyuck vaguely registers seeing them every other week, playing just as they are now. He waves at them with a smile on his face, and they wave back excitedly. He shakes his head fondly and continues on.

The sun shines down warmly on everything, making the cold of winter far more bearable than it would be on any other occasion. The roofs of the array of mismatched houses glint in the sunlight—it makes quite the sight. Not many are out this early on in the day; mornings are always quieter than afternoons and evenings. Donghyuck finds it sort of amusing how the atmosphere poses as a sharp juxtaposition to the turmoil brewing inside him.

Not many have yet discovered Mark’s arrival—or return, whatever you want to call it—he assumes, since that would certainly lead to a small little hubbub breaking out. Everyone knows everyone in a town like theirs, and well, Mark had wriggled his way into the hearts of the entire population (probably) back then for being such an ambitious, lively, hard-working kid ( _what a load of bull,_ Donghyuck scoffs internally, _they definitely haven’t seen him rolling around in bed for two days straight with an admittedly impressive assortment of junk food wrappers discarded carelessly on the floor_ ). He was definitely one of the townspeople’s favourites, so news of his arrival, once it had spread properly, was sure to stir up a commotion.

Donghyuck is shaken out of his thoughts by a rather harsh gust of wind sweeping past the area. It sends a shiver down his spine, and he tightens the coat around him, wrapping both his arms around himself right after. It would start snowing in just a few days, he knows. The thought excites him and has him feeling all fuzzy inside—watching the snow fall from inside the comforts of his warm room, running outside to play with it and just snow in general have been his favourite pastimes during the winters practically since he could walk. (He may be a legal adult now, but hey, snow is for all ages, is it not?)

When he looks up, he sees that he has already reached the winding pathway that leads up to Jeno’s porch. He shakes his head to do away with the vast arrangement of thoughts that had been increasingly filling it, and with a faint smile, he makes his way to the porch.

 _If things go on this way,_ he thinks, amused, as he waits for someone to answer the door, _I might just start waking up earlier._

 

* * *

 

When Donghyuck comes back home (at a quarter to ten, nearly two hours after when they have supper. _“You didn’t send a search party!”_ he had said, jabbing an accusing finger in his mother’s direction. She had rolled her eyes, not amused in the slightest. _“I knew you weren’t_ dead _, Hyuck. And besides—here you are, all safe and sound. What’s the problem?”_ she rattled off monotonously, having dealt with many a situation of this sort. _“I could’ve been abducted! When I’m taken away—that’s when you’ll realize what you were taking for granted, you’ll see!”)_  he immediately throws himself onto his bed, thoroughly exhausted from the day’s activities.

Oh, Jeno and Jaemin had _planned_ alright.

Donghyuck, after eighteen-going-on-nineteen years of living here, hadn’t known that there were so many places that he hadn’t ever even _heard_ of and so much to do in them. Just the fact that Jeno and Jaemin had devised the day’s itinerary so elaborately and carefully, almost as if they had been to the places they’d visited hundreds of times before and spent hundreds of hours there, coming up with new things to do and ways of doing them—the thought of it alone was unfathomable. And knowing that they had taken the time to go through with all of that just so that the rest of the gang could switch things up and experience a change of scenery (granted, it was also partly because they literally had nothing better to do, but still) sent an overwhelmingly powerful surge of affection coursing through him. Not that he’d care to ever voice that out loud.

Renjun hadn’t seemed as surprised as he was, and Donghyuck figures that Jeno and Jaemin must have dragged him out on a few of their expeditions without him having a say in it. Jisung and Chenle weren’t as taken aback either—most probably a product of their intermittent disappearances that would be reported every once in a while, which would then end with them scurrying back along before dinnertime with huge grins on their faces.

That left only him and Mark, and the entire ordeal was rather embarrassing, if he were to be honest, since it was more than understandable why Mark wasn’t acquainted with the places—he had been gone for…practically _forever._ What reason did Donghyuck have?

Exactly, none.

The predicament had consequently led to him being subjected to a small round of good-natured teasing, with taunts of, _“Hyuck, you need to go out more,”_ and _“There’s more to the world than what’s under your blankets,”_ and such being thrown around for a good ten minutes.

Either way, as fun as the day was, Donghyuck is _exhausted._ He pulls his blankets up to his chin after kicking off his shoes and extracts his phone from his pocket. He had a feeling that the rest of the time before he went to bed would be spent like this.

His phone (he had charged it at Jeno’s) buzzes once he unlocks it, and then again when he gets past the lock screen. And then again when he’s pulling down his notification bar to check who the hell is texting him at this time.

Unsurprisingly, the multitude of messages sources from the group chat.

 

**_jenojam_ **

_y’all_

_we’re meeting tomorrow again_

 

**_nana_ **

_at my place though_

 

**_injunnie_ **

_time??_

 

**_nana_ **

_uh…_

_jen?_

 

**_jenojam_ **

_idk_

_we’re meeting at ur place_

_what u asking me for_

 

**_nana_ **

D:

 

**_jenojam_ **

_okay fine u pesky little meerkat_

 

**_nana_ **

:D

 

_u guys are so gross_

 

**_nana_ **

_aww thanks!!_

 

**_jenojam_ **

_who stole ur lunch money damn_

_you’ve been saying that and just in general_ _been acting petty when you see couples nowadays_

_pretty sure you’ve been thinking the same thing too_

_started last week_

 

Privately, Jeno sends him another message, to add to what he was saying earlier.

 

_since mark hyung arrived_

;)

 

Donghyuck startles slightly. _Have I been doing that?_ he wonders, chewing his lower lip in worry. _But why? Surely it couldn’t be because—_

He gasps in shock. Screw Jeno, honestly.

_stfu_

_dry ass nugget_

 

;)))

 

Donghyuck rolls his eyes tiredly and tosses his phone to somewhere else on the bed to rid himself of his annoying little friends and their annoyingly precise observational skills, even if it’s for just a few minutes. Fruitless, really, because his phone buzzes around five times in rapid succession right after that, which only results in him having to pull himself up and out of the comfortable position he was in to look for it when he can’t find the damn thing by feeling around blindly for five minutes straight.

 

**_lele_ **

_so jeno hyung_

_you and jaem hyung are…_

 

**_babie_ **

_…a couple now?_

 

**_injunnie_ **

_oh this the Good Stuff_

 

**_nana_ **

_i don’t think you two are in the position to say that_

_you literally finish each other’s_

 

**_lele_ **

_sandwiches!_

 

**_babie_ **

_please don’t eat my sandwiches_

 

**_nana_ **

_sentences_

_i meant sentences you dumbasses_

_accidentally sent the message before i could_ _finish typing_

 

**_jenojam_ **

_hey jaem_

 

**_nana_ **

_what_

 

**_jenojam_ **

_are we a couple??_

 

**_nana has left the chat_ **

 

**_jenojam_ **

_huh..._

_well anyway_

_tomorrow, 10 am or whenever, jaemin’s_

_be there_

 

**_[0XX-XXX-XXXX]_ **

_or be square_

 

**_jenojam_ **

_mark hyung_

_you log on now,, after the entire conversation is_ _over… just to say that?_

 

**_[0XX-XXX-XXXX]_ **

_ya_

_anyway i gotta sleep_

_u kno, that thing normal people need to function_

 

**_lele_ **

_i may be dumb but i have A Feeling_

_are you calling us not normal people_

 

**_[0XX-XXX-XXXX]_ **

_i think the word’s ‘abnormal’ but yeah that works_   _too ig_

 

**_lele_ **

_oh my god sungie he called us not normal people_

 

**_babie_ **

_i mean we don’t exactly fall under the category_   _of ‘normal’ either_

 _we spend half our time plotting how to burn_ _people’s kitchens down_

 

**_lele_ **

_okay fair_

_but mark hyung_

_you might want to keep an eye on your kitchen_

:)

 

**_lele has left the chat_ **

 

**_[0XX-XXX-XXXX]_ **

_what does this mean_

_i’m shaking What does this Mean_

 

**_jenojam_ **

_it’s okay hyung they never get around to doing_   _anything anyways_

 

**_[0XX-XXX-XXXX]_ **

_still_

_should i be scared??_

 

**_injunnie_ **

_no lol_

_they’re scared of fire_

 

**_babie has left the chat_ **

 

**_injunnie_ **

_wimp_

_anyway i’ll go get some sleep,, meetup’s pretty_   _early tomorrow_

 

**_jenojam_ **

_10 am is in no universe early jun_

 

**_injunnie has left the chat_ **

 

**_jenojam_ **

_why does everyone in this gc think that logging_ _off is the way to go about it when someone says smth??_

 

**_[0XX-XXX-XXXX] has left the chat_ **

 

**_jenojam_ **

:(

 

_i’m here_

 

**_jenojam_ **

:)

 

_sike_

_i’m off to bed_

_lol u thought_

 

**_jenojam_ **

:(

 

**_jenojam has left the chat_ **

 

Donghyuck laughs lightly, exiting his messaging app and making his way to his contacts, scrolling until he finds Jeno’s. He taps on it and puts the phone to his ear, hearing it ring once… twice… thrice…

“What.”

Donghyuck hadn’t known up until now that it was humanly possible for someone to sound so pouty when talking.

“C’mere, you big baby,” he coos patronisingly. There’s shuffling on the other end—it makes Donghyuck imagine. A large, fluffy bed, with large, fluffy pillows, and a large, fluffy blanket wrapped around a large, fluffy boy generally known as Lee Jeno.

“Go away,” he grumbles moodily. “You guys are literally the worst friends ever.”

“You take what you get, Jen,” Donghyuck replies with a snicker. “Not everyone would willingly put up with you. Be thankful we do.”

He hears another grumble and it makes him laugh lightly. Jeno can be such a kid when he wants to be one. He relays as much to him, saying, “You’re such a baby sometimes, you know?”

“Says you.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Jeno hums softly as a reply, and a comfortable silence settles upon them; with how droopy his eyelids feel, it almost lulls Donghyuck to sleep. He keeps his eyes open though and shakes his head to rid himself of his sleepiness.

“Hey, Jen?” he starts softly. It elicits a small hum from the boy, which he takes as his cue to continue. “You’re practically in love with someone who doesn’t like you back, right?”

“Sure, why?” Jeno replies uninterestedly.

“No, nothing, I was just wondering what it felt like.”

“Hyuck, you _are_ aware that Jaemin likes me back, right? He’s just too shy to say so.”

Donghyuck sighs petulantly, “I know, I know. You’re lucky, you know? At least you know he likes you back.”

There’s a bit of rustling on the other line, after which Jeno’s voice sounds more clearly—it makes the soft sternness of his words more profound. “It’s not like it just happened, you know. I mean, you don’t think that we woke up one day just _knowing_ that we liked each other, do you? No, I did confess to him, Hyuck. And he told me he likes me back, but that he isn’t ready to be in a relationship. We talked it out, Hyuck. You can’t expect something to just— _work out_ without giving it a little push first. Do you see where I’m going?”

Donghyuck bites his lip softly. “I—” he starts hesitantly, “—I don’t want to scare him off, Jen. What if—What if it grosses him out? He might say that—that he’s seen me as a really close friend up until now, just that, nothing more and nothing less. What if he finds just the thought of me having a crush on him repulsive? What if he finds me…disgusting?”

“Hey, hey, slow down. First, take a deep breath,” the softness of Jeno’s smooth voice in itself plays a vital part in calming him down; Donghyuck finds himself following his instructions as if under a spell. “Feel better?”

“Somewhat?” Donghyuck replies unsurely.

“Well, my friend, lean back, relax and keep your ears open because we will be commencing the—” a pause, “—twenty-third session of Jeno Gives his Friends Love Advice™. Payment is accepted in cash, cookies and cake.”

“Not hugs?” Donghyuck asks like the painfully broke student he is.

“Not hugs,” Jeno confirms happily. “Anyway! Let’s begin. Made yourself comfortable?”

Donghyuck grumbles, complying nonetheless. “Yeah, please get this over with before I fall asleep. Your voice does that to people, you know.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever keeps you happy,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes, but his words are tinted with fondness. He grimaces then, mumbling, “Anyway, on with the counseling, I guess?”

He hears a loud clap of excitement which is then followed by what sounds like an earthquake; Jeno’s voice sounds just a minute after, sounding a tad bit sheepish, “Sorry, forgot I was holding my phone with one hand and well, you need two hands to clap.”

“And this is the dude who’s going to give me advice on love,” Donghyuck points out flatly. “Should I be worried?”

“Hey, leave me alone. I’m trying to help here. Okay, anyway, listen now!”

Donghyuck shuffles to sit better on his bed and hums. “I’m all ears.”

“Firstly, you know that Mark hyung would _never_ be disgusted by you. That’s atrocious, Hyuck, you of all people should know that,” Jeno starts, his voice gentle. “Why would you say that?”

Donghyuck cringes his hands, eventually settling on curling them into the blankets. “I—You know, I was once rejected by this classmate I used to admire. Obviously, like the dumb eighth grader I was, I developed a _crush_ on him.”

“You’ve never told me about this,” Jeno frowns.

“I’ve never told anyone about it,” Donghyuck tells him. “It was too hurtful to bring up back then, you know, with the wounds being fresh and all. And after that I kinda forgot about it, and well, Mark happened. Anyway, so we were promoted to the same class again in the ninth. It took all of my willpower to muster up the courage to confess to him, and—” he pauses to let out a shuddering breath and then continues, voice quivering slightly, “He all but spat at my feet for _liking another boy._  Called me gross, said I was scum. It was one of the worst days of my life.”

He hears Jeno take in a sharp breath on the other end before he replies. “Hyuckie, I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Donghyuck replies nonchalantly. “I’d gotten over it a long time ago.”

“But Mark hyung’s different, is he not? We know he likes boys,” his voice then takes on a teasing lilt. “His blatantly obvious crush on Yuta hyung demonstrated that pretty well, if I do say so myself.”

Donghyuck chuckles, his face instantly lighting up in a smile. “You really do know how to make feel less shitty, huh?”

“What can I say?” Jeno grins. “I’ve been at it for almost two decades now, haven’t I?”

“Lee Jeno: Bringing Smiles to Lee Donghyuck’s face Since 2000,” Donghyuck laughs lightly. “Gosh, we’ve been together for that long, huh?”

“You make it sound like we’re in a relationship, Hyuck,” Jeno points out wryly. “But yeah, eighteen years is no joke. Diaper buddies, that’s what we were. And now we’re… ‘wallowing in sorrow caused by school and adulthood’ buddies. Has a nice ring to it, eh?”

“No, it doesn’t, but it’s the truth, and the truth is mostly never pretty, so.”

“Damn, we getting philosophical now? I didn’t sign up for this.”

“You didn’t sign up for half the shit I do and make you do, Jen, but you still do it all, don’t you?”

“Unfortunately. Contrary to popular belief, I _do_ love you. Very much, at that.”

“I love myself very much too.”

“Way to ruin a sentimental moment, Hyuck,” Jeno groans petulantly. It makes Donghyuck snicker—in spite of his age and the fact that he’s an _adult_ now,Jeno never really lost that childlike aura of his that has always kept people around him smiling.

“I’m kidding,” he grins, and then goes on, his tone taking on a softer edge, “I love you too, Jeno. _Very much, at that._ ”

Jeno hums, seemingly satisfied. Silence prevails again, but it’s not a problem, never has been either—silences with Jeno are more comforting than anything else. Donghyuck rearranges himself until he’s lying down completely, with his phone sandwiched between his pillow and his head.

“Hey, Jen?” he says slowly, mind groggy from the tiredness that is making itself more apparent with each passing minute.

“Yeah?”

“Is there any remote possibility of him liking me back?” His voice sounds undeniably sad—broken even, as if he had just been kicked a moment ago. He hates it.

A pregnant pause follows, during which Donghyuck finds himself picking at his nails worriedly. _Surely if he’s taking so long to answer, it’s all for naught?_

“I don’t know, Hyuck,” comes the eventual reply. Jeno’s voice is softer now, if that’s even possible, and it calms him even though the answer he received is not quite as reassuring as he had hoped it would be. “There’s no way of telling. But, if I’m not wrong… you two haven’t met up privately yet, have you?”

“No, we haven’t. Has he been doing that?” Donghyuck asks, bewildered.

“Yeah,” Jeno replies, sounding slightly embarrassed. “Till now, he’s met with Lele, Jisung, Renjun, Jaem, and me. That leaves—” a pause, and then a soft, _“Oh.”_

Donghyuck doesn’t know what the clench of his heart is supposed to mean. “Well,” he laughs hoarsely. “Maybe I should just give up, huh? He doesn’t even want me as a friend anymore—and I’m so far ahead, thinking that we could one day be a—a _couple._ _Pathetic_.”

_“Hyuck.”_

Donghyuck sighs tiredly. “I’m sorry,” he says gently, in an effort to placate the boy on the other end. He finds it funny how Jeno is the one in need of placation.

“Donghyuck,” Jeno says, quiet but stern. It sends a shiver down Donghyuck’s spine because he rarely ever calls him that. “You need to stop being so hard on yourself. You’re such a beautiful, _beautiful_ person, and knowing that you see yourself in a completely different light and think of yourself so lowly makes me— _ugh._ ”

“I get it,” Donghyuck says. “I do, really. It’s what I felt back when you thought you weren’t worthy of Nana’s love, remember?”

“Yeah,” Jeno breathes. “Damn, I’m much better off now, huh?”

“Well, that makes one of us,” Donghyuck mutters distractedly. They fall silent again.

“You are too, you know,” Jeno speaks up a few beats later.

Donghyuck’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What?”

“In a better position, I mean.”

Donghyuck laughs scornfully. “In which world, pray tell me?”

“In every world,” Jeno says honestly. “Hyuck, back then, soon after you realized you liked Mark, we found out that he was leaving for home, which is practically on the other side of the world. Not to mention, for an indefinite period of time. Hell, we didn’t know if he was ever going to come back. Don’t you think you’re better off now?”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“There’s no other way to put it, Hyuck,” Jeno presses. He sighs quietly before continuing, “Look, all you can do now is approach him first. Try to understand his side of the story—back then, you two were literally the closest friends _ever._ It—It was like you were attached to each other with super glue or something,” Donghyuck has to bite back a laugh at that, “and suddenly, when he comes back after five years, you’re both acting like you don’t know each other and have never known each other. It’s only natural for him to assume that you wouldn’t want to meet, and even if you did, you tell me, with the way you two are treating each other now, how awkward would it be on a scale of one to ten?”

“...Stop talking smart, it doesn’t suit you.”

_“Hyuck.”_

“Oh, all right,” Donghyuck relents gruffly, ignoring Jeno’s seal-clapping and the loud thud that follows.

“Sorry, I—”

“—forgot you needed two hands to clap?” Donghyuck laughs.

“Yeah,” Jeno replies, embarrassed. “Anyway, Hyuck,” he says, this time sounding leagues more serious, “please don’t let this friendship go to waste. Work on salvaging that first?”

“I will,” he replies truthfully. “But not now. I tend to make all decisions that are expected to have a significant outcome on my life in the morning, when I’m half-asleep. That way, I can blame it on the drowsiness.”

“Your method is severely flawed, you know that, right?”

“Yes, but it’s been eighteen years and I haven’t died yet, so… gets me by.”

Jeno shakes his head, disappointed but not quite surprised. “Whatever you do, _please_ do it. _Soon._ ”

“I will,” Donghyuck says. “I promise.”

“Great!” the older beams. “With that, we conclude the twenty-third session of Jeno Gives his Friends Love Advice™. How would you rate your experience?”

“On a scale of one to ten?” A small, evil smile spreads across Donghyuck’s face. “Two.”

“Honestly, to hell with you, Hyuck.”

“You know you love me,” Donghyuck coos lovingly, adding a sloppy kissing sound at the end for punctuation.

“Gross,” Jeno says disgustedly—it does little to mask the affection lacing his words.

“But seriously, Jen, thanks. A lot.”

“Yeah, yeah, you big sap, go to bed. It’s past your bedtime.”

With a laugh, and another wet smooch, Donghyuck finds himself staring warmly at the screen of his phone before he tosses it gently to somewhere elsewhere on the bed. A little while later, he’s drifting off easily, chest ten times lighter than before.

He doesn’t notice his phone buzzing with a new message.

 

* * *

 

“I swear it was somewhere around here last time,” Donghyuck mumbles frustratedly to himself, eyebrows knitted together in concentration. He has known for a long time that the only twenty-four hour convenience store in their town had shut down for a little while in the middle for renovation and he had visited only once after that had happened (he had been coercing Chenle and Jisung into getting his chocolate for him since then) and that had been nearly a month ago. That time, however, it had been to run errands, and not an impromptu trip that had been spurred on by the discovery of the lack of candy in the super-secret stash under his bed. And well, the previous time he had been here ten in the morning, and right now it’s nearing ten-thirty at night.

The bottom line is—Donghyuck hadn’t been allowed to buy sweets then, because everyone and their mothers (especially his mother) know that he gets a little carried away when it comes to candy, and it was the beginning of exam season; he couldn’t afford falling sick. So he had passed by the sweets aisle with a heavy heart, his stomach dropping when he saw the vast assortment that the racks were positively brimming with and the fact that he wouldn’t be able to get his hands on them anytime soon had set in. He had been sure that after an encounter such as that, he wouldn’t forget—or even dream of forgetting—where the aisle was, no matter how (unnecessarily) large the place was.

At least, that is what he had confidently told himself on the way here.

Obviously, things don’t quite turn out that way.

Donghyuck has been here for a total of seven minutes, as his slightly wonky wristwatch tells him, and he has, so far, come across almost all of the aisles except the one he desires to be in, and in the process, discovered items he hadn’t even heard of before.

Asking for help would be useless, because there are no customers around at this hour, and the dude manning the counter is fast asleep. Donghyuck doesn’t have the heart to shake him awake. _And besides,_ he tells himself, _the CCTVs_ _will work their magic soon enough._

“The sweets aisle is that way, if you were wondering,” a voice pipes up from somewhere behind him. It successfully pulls him out of his musings; however, the intrusion is so sudden that it makes Donghyuck jump and as a result, the cup of instant noodles he was examining idly slips out of his grasp and onto the floor with a clatter. He doesn’t pay it much mind, because during that time, the voice had registered somewhere at the back of his head and _oh, please, for the love of God, don’t let it be him, pleasepleaseplease—_

“Mark hyung,” he breathes, clutching at his chest dramatically. He takes a deep breath before going on, “God, you scared the shit out of me.”

Mark smiles brilliantly, a small chuckle slipping past his lips. “Sorry ’bout that. You just looked a little lost, and in severe need of help. And well, I had a hunch about what you were looking for—I mean, at this hour, you wouldn’t be out for much else, if my assumptions are correct.”

Donghyuck feels his neck and the tips of his ears burn in embarrassment, but Donghyuck isn’t Donghyuck if he doesn’t pretend to be nonchalant about everything, so he squints sceptically at Mark and says, “How do you know your way around so well already?”

Mark’s smile dims slightly in its radiance as he brings a hand to his nape to scratch at it, laughing awkwardly, “I need proper food to get by, you know? Been visiting often to stock up on supplies.”

“I’m not quite sure if—” Donghyuck bends down to retrieve the fallen cup, “—instant noodles can classify as _proper food,_ but sure, whatever keeps you going. Still haven’t learned to cook, have you, hyung?”

Mark tilts his head at him with a small smile, raising an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

“Definitely not, from the looks of it,” the younger replies, putting the cup of noodles back in its place and turning it around so that the label looks out at the aisle. _That’s it, Hyuck, you’re doing well, you’re good,_ he tells himself mentally, closing his eyes for a brief moment. When he turns back to Mark, it’s with an easy smile on his face—the signature Donghyuck smile that entails nothing but trouble. “What have you been _doing_ for five years, then?”

“ _Not_ learning how to cook?” Mark grins brightly. His smile falters slightly then, and he clears his throat awkwardly. “I—uh… I had texted you last night. H–Had you not seen it?”

Donghyuck’s eyes widen fractionally, caught off guard by the question and the barely noticeable hurt that colours Mark’s voice. Of _course_ he would ask about the message. _But how am I supposed to answer that?_ He hadn’t seen it last night when Mark had sent it to him—he had already fallen asleep by then—but he _had_ seen it first thing in the morning. From the notification bar, of course, for he hadn’t dared to open it, but he had seen it nonetheless. He couldn’t possibly lie now, could he?

“No, I hadn’t,” he smiles apologetically, trying to sound as convincingly sincere as he can. “Sorry about that. What did it say?”

“It was just me asking if you—you know…” Mark trails off nervously.

“No, as a matter of fact, I don’t know,” Donghyuck is the one raising an eyebrow this time, the corners of his lips tugging upwards in an amused smile. Mark is as awkward as he remembers. _How endearing_. “Care to enlighten me?”

Mark clears his throat again, looking Donghyuck in the eye when he speaks up this time around. It knocks the breath out of him. “I was asking if you wanted to hang out.”

“Oh,” Donghyuck replies, the smile slipping off of his face entirely. Mark seems to think the change in demeanour is because his invitation is unwelcome, and he rushes to explain.

“B–But like, you don’t _have_ to, i–if you don’t want to, that is. I was just—just asking. We could… do it some other time. Yeah! We’ll do it some other time. Well, it was nice talking to you! Goodnight!”

And with that, he wheels around promptly and begins to stalk off without even waiting for a reply. It takes a moment for Donghyuck to process everything, but when he does, he lurches forward and barely manages to stop Mark with a hand on his wrist.

“Hyung,” he says, turning Mark around rather forcefully by the shoulders. He looks bewildered, blinking rapidly at the younger, and they continue blinking at each other for a bit until Donghyuck breaks out into a charming smile. “I would love to hang out with you.”

Mark looks at him sceptically, blinking again for good measure. “You—You would?”

Donghyuck beams. “Of course! But I need my chocolate first. Where did you say the aisle was again?”

Mark still looks slightly perplexed, but he manages to lift a hand and point with his thumb to the right. Donghyuck nods, pushing past his still figure and making his way out of the aisle. “Come on! This shouldn’t take too long.”

It comes a few beats later, but Donghyuck picks up the sound of rushed footsteps struggling to catch up with him, but he doesn’t bother with slowing down because, well, he’s like that.

“Hey,” Mark huffs from behind him. “Hey! Slow down, why don’t you? You can see I’m struggling, can’t you?”

“Actually,” Donghyuck says rather haughtily. “I _can’t_ see that you’re struggling, because you’re walking behind me. Goodness, hyung, where’s your common sense? Left it behind in Canada?”

“Shut up,” Mark grumbles, suddenly appearing next to him. It takes Donghyuck a moment to register that Mark is taller than him now. Not by much, but still taller. It feels foreign—the two of them were the same height back then, and maybe Donghyuck was even a few centimeters taller, so not being able to stare levelly into his eyes is… _new._  Donghyuck shakes his head and speeds up a little.

When they enter the aisle, it’s as if Donghyuck forgets about all of the troubles in life, eyes lighting up in joy as he jumps about from one rack to another, absolutely delighted with the vast arrangement of choices laid out before him. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Mark watching him in what could be classified as fondness, but he doesn’t stop to pay him much heed. Nothing can get in between him and his chocolate—not even Mark.

By the time he’s done prancing about like a mutantly large bunny, the make-shift basket he’s made in his arms is brimming with all sorts of sweets, and the sight makes him so immeasurably happy—to the point where he can’t stop smiling. Mark, however, who has been watching him silently throughout, does not seem to share the same sentiments. He eyes the brightly (a little _too_ bright, if you’d ask him) wrapped goods apprehensively, as if they would jump out of their wrappers and attack him at any moment.

“Do you usually buy this much?” he asks, eyes darting back up only to met with a beaming Donghyuck.

“No, not always,” he hums in reply, already making his way to the billing counter, his movements careful so as to not drop any of the precious babies cushioned against his arms. “Mom would have my head if I did. But I have her consent this time!” he states proudly. “I like to think of it as a treat for all my hard work during the exams. And for surviving them. Mainly the latter.” He lets the ‘cushion’ collapse, and everything falls onto the counter, clattering loudly as they come in contact with the surface in rapid succession. It successfully rouses the cashier, who looks extremely confused for a good minute. Donghyuck grins at him brightly before turning back to face Mark. “So no, I don’t usually buy this much.”

Mark nods at him warily, and it ends at that. The only sounds to be heard from then on are the beeps that the billing machine makes as the cashier scans each product groggily. Donghyuck drums his fingers impatiently against where his arms are leaning on the counter, greedily watching as the man gets closer and closer to finishing. He squints at the monitor before him for a moment and then turns to Donghyuck and says, still groggily, “That’ll be 20,000.”

He produces two bills and quite literally snatches the small bag out of the cashier’s hands once he’s done with the packing. He makes a beeline for the exit, too engrossed in staring at the contents of the bag in awe to notice the lack of the sound of footsteps following him. He turns around to find Mark looking back at him—he looks extremely entertained, for some reason—leaning against the counter with his hip, his arms folded across his front.

“What?” Donghyuck asks, confused. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Hyuck,” Mark says slowly, in the same way one would talk to a toddler. Donghyuck ignores the patronising quality of his voice in favour of basking in the feeling of being addressed that way by him after nearly five years. “You don’t think I came here at almost an hour to midnight on a freezing winter night just because I’d sensed from the warmth of my apartment that you would need help with finding chocolate, do you?”

The tips of Donghyuck’s ears burn an unflattering red in embarrassment. On second thought, maybe this trip could have waited till morning because _clearly_ his brain isn’t functioning properly at all. When he looks back up, Mark is still staring at him with that same infuriatingly amused expression. Donghyuck’s palms start to itch, overpowered by the sudden urge to strike someone across the face. Instead, he curls his free hand into a fist and smiles shakily at Mark. “Of course not,” he says, trying to come off as nonchalant to the best of his abilities.

The cashier snorts. Donghyuck’s eye twitches and for some inconceivable reason, the itch is back. _Gee,_ he says sarcastically to himself, _I wonder why._

“Okay,” Mark replies, the hints of a small half-smile still visible on his face. Donghyuck dithers awkwardly by the door while Mark pays for his stuff ( _when did he even get those),_  and the relief that fills him once they walk out of the place and into the cold of the winter night is immeasurable.

They remain silent, for the most part, since Donghyuck is busy wondering where the _hell_ they’re going with his eyes focused solely on the way his shoes hit the pavement, while Mark seems to be deep in thought as well. This goes on for a little while, until the latter speaks up quietly.

“You haven’t talked to me since I got back.”

To say that this sudden declaration catches Donghyuck off guard would be an understatement. His breath catches in his throat so suddenly that it sends him spiralling into a rather violent coughing fit, which ends in Mark patting his back worriedly until he calms down.

Once he has recovered well enough, Donghyuck says, rather dumbly, that too, “What?”

Mark’s lips tugs downwards in a slight frown. “You haven’t—um… been talking to me. Since I got back. I’m sorry if this is making things awkward—uh… Oh gosh, why can’t I just keep _quiet_ —”

“You haven’t either, you know.”

Mark pauses, turning to look at him. “What?”

“You haven’t been talking to me either,” Donghyuck concedes, colouring slightly. “I heard from Jeno last night that you’d met up privately with everyone but me. Your text came later, so it was only natural for me to assume that you were avoiding me. And it’s not like you were paying me special attention during the meetings where everyone else was there, either.”

Mark looks stunned for a moment, before his expression takes on an apologetic edge. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, his head hanging down in shame. “It’s just that—it felt weird, you know?”

Donghyuck looks at him quizzically. “What did?”

“One day I can make the most disgusting jokes about like—burping and stuff with you and the next, we’re suddenly strangers.”

“You failed to mention that this ‘next day’ came almost five years after the first one,” Donghyuck points out flatly, eliciting a small chuckle from his companion. His hard gaze softens a bit when he continues, “But I understand. It was a little disorienting for me too—not being able to do whatever around you without a second thought, that is. This past week, it’s as if I’ve been walking on eggshells around you all the damn time and I—” he pauses to take a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment in an attempt at regaining his composure. “I hated feeling like that.”

Mark doesn’t reply, and for a split second Donghyuck fears that he’d overdone it, when fingers are suddenly slipping through the gaps between his own and a warm palm is pressed flush against his.

Mark’s grip is tight, but not to the point where it gets overbearing. It’s comforting. It feels like _home._

They walk in silence, hands clasped firmly together, falling in step at some point. When Donghyuck tires of watching their feet and the way their shoes move against the ground, he looks up, turning slightly to face the older.

Mark looks _beautiful._ The streetlights that shine down on them accentuate the sharpness of his cheekbones and the well-defined angle of his jaw; his messy hair looks almost golden under the light but perhaps the factor that makes him look beautiful the most is the serene smile tugging ever-so-gently at his lips.

Donghyuck ignores the voice inside his head screaming at him to _stare some more_ in favour of redirecting his gaze to their linked arms. “Where are we going?” he manages to ask with minimalistic stuttering—a fact he is extremely proud of. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Mark shifting slightly to look at him, but he can’t find it in himself to meet his gaze. Eventually, Mark gets around to answering his query.

“There’s this place,” he begins carefully. Donghyuck can’t help but scoff in response.

“ _Gee_ , no kidding. I thought we were going to find a spot of nice, clean air where we could levitate,” he rolls his eyes, exasperated. Mark clucks his tongue at him disapprovingly.

“Do you want to know or not?”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes again for good measure. “Yeah, whatever,” he relents.

“Thank you,” Mark smiles saccharinely. Donghyuck sticks his tongue out at him. “So, there’s this place that I found on one of these impromptu trips to the store. I think it was some four or five days ago, but I’m not quite sure. Either way, I was too tired to check it out then, so I came back the next day and since then I’ve been spending practically all of my free time there.”

“Well,” Donghyuck says, a small but teasing smile easing its way onto his face. “It sounds like you’re taking me to your very own secret lair or something.” Pausing slightly, he adds as an afterthought, “Should I be honoured?”

Mark laughs lightly in response. Donghyuck finds himself a little transfixed by how pretty the sound is.

“If you’d like,” the older says, giving his hand a little squeeze. The gesture fills Donghyuck with warmth.

The rest of the walk is silent; Donghyuck has resorted to staring at the ground while relishing in the feeling of their linked hands. Somewhere in the middle, Mark starts to hum a soft tune—it sounds familiar to him, but Donghyuck can’t quite place where he’d heard it before. Instead, he finds himself listening intently to how pleasant Mark sounds—he had always sung well.

Eventually, they end up at some sort of clearing at the bottom of a small hill. The mostly barren bushes part in the centre and trail off to the sides in either direction, circling around the base of the hill. It shouldn’t look as nice as it does, Donghyuck thinks, with how prickly bushes generally are at this time of year, and the hill isn’t extraordinarily green either—it’s quite ordinary, really—but there’s _something_ about the place—maybe the way the small branches wrap and curl around each other and create patterns that Donghyuck has never seen before or maybe it’s how the remains of the bushes part so perfectly in the middle, with a small, pebbled pathway leading up to the point at the base of hill from where you’re expected to start scaling, almost as it the place was _meant_ to be discovered—that steals your breath away and leaves you quivering.

“Hyuck?” Donghyuck snaps out of his musings at that, and it is only then that he realizes that Mark has gone on ahead, and is standing at bottom of the hill, looking back at him expectantly—and maybe there’s a hint of amusement mixed with it too. “Aren’t you coming?”

Donghyuck nods, dazed, and hurries along the the small pathway to where Mark stands, his bag of sweets hitting his thigh with the movement. Once he’s next to him, he glances questioningly at the older for instructions. Mark catches his gaze and smiles, gesturing with his head towards the top of the hill. And with that, he starts to climb.

Reaching the top of the hill isn’t nearly as taxing as it would have been had Donghyuck not been friends with the people he is friends with, for the plans that they come up with often involve a lot of exertion (whatever that’s supposed to mean), so they get to the top in a matter of minutes. Once they’re securely at the pinnacle, Donghyuck allows himself a moment to look around. He wonders if staying down would have been better.

The entire surface of the platform they’re standing on is concealed under a blanket of leaves—leaves of the most astounding colour Donghyuck has ever seen. They’re a beautiful golden-brown, he notes, as he bends down to pick one up and examine it under the moonlight that shines more profoundly at this height. “I don’t think I’ve seen leaves this pretty in autumn,” he whispers wondrously to his companion, earning him a small hum of agreement in response.

It is only when he straightens himself back up that Donghyuck notices the tree that’s a little off to the side of the area. Its thick mop of leaves are of the same colour as the ones scattered across the ground.

With the moonlight beaming down on them, the tree and the ground look unrealistically golden. Donghyuck doesn’t think he’s ever been to a place as magical as this one.

Mark has made himself comfortable at the bottom of the tree, with his back against its wide trunk and his bottom resting cozily on the bed of leaves below it; he busies himself by rummaging through the rather large paper bag of his and when he comes back up, it’s with an ridiculously large bag of chips in his hands. He rips the packet open and pops a few into his mouth, and this goes on for a bit until he seems to remember that he has company.

“Hey,” he calls out to the younger, who is still looking around in awe. Donghyuck’s gaze snaps to him; Mark almost shudders under the intensity of it. “Want some?” he inquires, holding up the bag as illustration.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes at his childishness but goes over to join him anyway; when he reaches the tree, he plops down and gives himself a minute to acquaint himself with the foreign sensation.

Mark shoves the packet into his face rather unceremoniously once he seems to have deemed that he was comfortable enough, a friendly smile painting his face.

“No thanks,” Donghyuck replies, a tad bit wary, holding up his own, smaller bag. “I’m good. Also, hyung, you’ve some pieces stuck in your teeth. Thought I’d let you know.”

Mark’s face quickly drops, and he flushes a deep red, embarrassed. The sudden 180 makes Donghyuck laugh.

“I’m only joking,” he grins good-naturedly, patting Mark consolingly on the back. He receives a rough shove to his shoulder in return.

Once they’ve both settled down with their comfort foods (Donghyuck picks a medium-sized box of small chocolates that he’s been treating himself with for as long as he can remember; Mark is halfway through his chips), Mark takes it upon himself to initiate conversation.

“So,” he starts carefully, setting his bag down for a moment. “How’ve you… How’ve you been doing?”

Donghyuck snorts, not unkindly, at that. “I’ve been well, thank you,” he replies cordially; the teasing lilt to his voice however, does not go unnoticed, “And how about you?”

“Very well, very well,” the other replies, seeming rather antsy. All of a sudden, his previously wandering gaze lands on Donghyuck and for a good, long moment, he simply studies him. The sudden turn of events and the close scrutiny he’s being subjected to join hands to make Donghyuck feel suddenly highly insecure about his appearance—he hadn’t quite expected the night to go this way; the outing was simply supposed to have been for stocking up on delicacies that were meant to satiate his sweet tooth, which had meant throwing on whatever was at hand. And so Donghyuck had left the house donned in a grey hoodie that was three sizes too big for him, worn Nike sweatpants, mismatched socks paired with fading white sneakers and the glasses he requires to read the prices on the labels of things because _goddamn_ , those numbers are _small._

After a painstakingly slow minute or two tick by, Mark looks Donghyuck in the eye and smiles shyly. “You—You look g–good.”

“Why, thank you,” Donghyuck snickers nonchalantly, although the pace at which is heart is thumping against his chest tells a different story. A little softer, he adds, “You do too.”

Mark coughs hoarsely. “Th–Thanks.” He picks up his chips them and proceeds to munch away at them furiously for the next few minutes. Donghyuck tries his best to bite back a smile and instead busies himself with his own food.

When the silence becomes too stifling to handle, he turns to Mark, and in a voice much softer than the one he’s been using all night, he says, “In all seriousness, though, how’ve you been? How’re you dealing with the shift and all?”

Mark pauses to look at him, eyes widening slightly, presumably caught off guard by the sudden change in his friend’s countenance. He blinks once before putting down the bag again—this time though, it’s empty.

For a few agonizingly long minutes, he doesn’t say anything. Rather, he appears to be neck-deep in thought—almost as it he was at battling the internal conflict raging inside of him. “I’m—I’m happy,” he says at long last, sounding a tad bit unsure. “I’m happy here,” he repeats, much more confidently this time.

Donghyuck nods. A thought strikes him then, and with a mischievous smile, he asks, “And…Yuta hyung?”

The way Mark’s ears turn a bright red definitely do not go unnoticed under Donghyuck’s keen gaze.

“Wh–What about him?” Mark stammers, defiant still. His adamancy has never failed to bring a smile to  Donghyuck’s face (granted, it has also made him want to throttle the older on a number of occasions, but still).

“Oh, nothing,” he replies airily, “I was just wondering whether you still had that humongous crush on him like back in the day, you know. Must’ve felt nice—seeing him again, eh?”

Mark turns tomato-red at the accusation, dissolving into a stuttering mess at that. It takes several minutes and a lot of effort on Donghyuck’s part to calm him down.

“Do you, though?” he asks, inquisitive, Mark having settled down considerably. “Like him still, I mean?”

Mark stares off into the distance thoughtfully, bringing his legs to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. “I do,” he decides finally.

Donghyuck is sure his heart makes some sort of noise with how harshly it breaks.

“Oh?” he says, mentally congratulating himself for managing to prevent a stutter.

“Yeah,” Mark smiles, a little sadly, before he turns to meet Donghyuck’s eyes. “But it doesn’t really matter, does it? If I like him or not. He’s still with Taeyong hyung, and they’re like, the happiest couple around. And I have a feeling that it’s going to stay that way. Nothing much I can do about it, now can I?”

“Would you, though?” Donghyuck asks boldly. “Do something about it if you could?”

For a moment, Mark looks at him long and hard. Donghyuck tries his best not to wither under his gaze, thanking the heavens when he looks away.

“I suppose,” is his reply.

It ends at that.

Donghyuck picks up his chocolates again—mainly a distraction, really, from the thoughts rapidly filling his head that make it incredibly difficult to even think about thinking about anything else.

“Hey, hyung?” he speaks up after a bit, when the raging war in his head becomes far too much of a burden. “Why did you come back?”

Mark halts his hunt for more food and turns to regard him with a questioning look.

“I know—” Donghyuck continues hesitantly, “—I know you told us that it was because of the ruckus your parents were stirring up at home, with their relationship problems and all, and how it was negatively affecting you as well, b—but…there’s more to it, isn’t there?”

Mark sucks in a sharp breath and closes his eyes. It sends Donghyuck into a panic, fearing that he’s finally struck a nerve with all of his prying.

“Hey, it’s okay if you don’t to tell me, I didn’t mean to pry—”

“I got rejected from all the universities I applied to.”

Donghyuck freezes. Mark doesn’t seem to notice; he stops briefly before continuing, “I’d been working odd part-time jobs since I arrived in Canada, you know. If there’s one thing I knew back then, it was that I wanted to get away from my parents as soon as I could. So, I started working. Didn’t miss more than seven days in five years in hopes of being able to make it through university on my own dime. At least,” he laughs bitterly, “that was the plan. Never knew I’d end up using all of that hard-earned money like this.”

 _Am I supposed to take offense?_ Donghyuck wonders for a moment before immediately ridding himself of the thought. Mark would never mean it like that.

“So when it was all over and done with—I sat down for a moment and let it all sink in. I thought long and hard about it, and eventually decided that I might as well live in a place where I’d be happy, and that I’d take it from there. So I packed my bags and voilà—here I am,” he finishes slowly, picking at the threads that had come loose from the shirt he was wearing underneath his jacket.

The admission renders Donghyuck speechless and stunned. All this time, Mark had been dealing with—with _this_ and still, there would _always_ be a smile on his face. Donghyuck wonders if that’s even possible for a human being to accomplish.

 _Then again,_ he tells himself, _this is Mark Lee. He’d rather jump into the Niagara Falls than cause anyone worry._

Donghyuck finds himself at a loss of what to do—he’s never been the best at deep heart-to-hearts; imparting meaningful advice wasn’t quite his forté either. And God forbid he says something that would only worsen the situation in the name of providing moral support, so it was better to keep quiet. And so, he does the one thing he knows he’s reasonably good at—he gives Mark a hug.

It catches him off guard initially, with the way he stiffens in Donghyuck’s hold, but eventually the tension leaves his body, and he goes lax in his embrace. He sags against the younger, and Donghyuck lets him. When he cries because of the pent-up stress, frustration and sadness his tears wetting the fabric covering Donghyuck’s shoulder and his hands clutching desperately at his hoodie, Donghyuck lets him.

An hour later, when he’s calmed down and offers to walk him home, Donghyuck lets him. And when he thanks him once they’re at his doorstep, eyes shimmering in gratitude before leaning in for a quick hug, Donghyuck lets him, no matter how much his heart feels like it’s going to drop to the floor and shatter into a million pieces at their feet.

Donghyuck bids him goodbye cheerily, with a brilliant smile on his face. He watches him leave, eyes following his retreating figure until he can’t anymore, before he heads inside, stomach twisting and smile dropping instantly.

If there’s one thing that the night’s events have taught him, he thinks as he lies awake in bed a little while later, it’s that he’s pretty darn good at hiding his feelings.

A voice in his head tells him that that will do him more harm than good in the long run.

 

* * *

 

“So, you’re whipped.”

Donghyuck glares at Taeyong as intensely as he can, but it doesn’t seem to work very effectively, because instead of cowering in fear, the older coos and reaches over to ruffle his hair affectionately.

“Stop,” Donghyuck groans, head hitting the table in defeat once Taeyong pulls away. Yuta, from where he’s sitting on one of the stools around the kitchen island, winces at the loud _thud_ that comes with the action. “I already have so much on my plate—I don’t need overbearing hyungs to make things worse.”

“Is your head okay?” Yuta asks, running his fingers gently through the younger’s messy brown hair. Donghyuck sighs contentedly at the feeling of nimble fingers massaging gently at his scalp.

“No,” he says in response, looking up when the digits stop working away at his hair. Yuta is looking at him worriedly—it warms Donghyuck’s heart, how much he cares about everyone. Him and Taeyong have always been such worrywarts when it comes to the well-being of the ones close to them. To pacify him, he says, “It’s hurting from how much I’ve been thinking these past few days.”

The worry on Yuta’s face melts into relief, and he gently pushes at his head so that it tips onto the counter and continues to scratch his head. Donghyuck continues groaning, and Taeyong continues looking through the cookbook he had got out.

“Yu,” Donghyuck hears him say after a bit. Yuta’s hum of acknowledgement follows, and after some shuffling about, Taeyong speaks up again. “How about these?”

“Aren’t those kinda… not worth it? They take forever to make, and it’s not like the quantity adds up to much either. And we’re supposed to feed _twenty-two_ people, Yong. Quantity is _everything_ when you’re feeding twenty-two people,” Yuta says matter-of-factly.

Donghyuck hears Taeyong whine disappointedly—it would be hard to guess that they were full-grown 24 year-olds, based on their mannerisms. “But they taste so _good,_ ” he argues half-heartedly.

“No, Taeyong,” Yuta says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. Taeyong groans in response but doesn’t push it any further, instead flipping to another page in the book. Donghyuck finds it extremely amusing, how Yuta has so much control over him in times like in spite of how easy-going he usually his, and vice-versa. Well, mostly Yuta is the one in need of a good dressing down, with how he can get sometimes, but in general—Donghyuck finds it sort of awe-inspiring, how well they ground each other. He thinks they’re perfect for one another in that way.

“Yuta hyung,” Donghyuck interjects suddenly, lifting his head off of the countertop. Yuta’s hand slides off his hair and onto the wood; Donghyuck glances down at his long, elegant fingers for a brief moment before looking away to face him again. “How’s your back doing?”

Yuta smiles brightly, “It’s almost completely alright now!” he says excitedly. “I’ve been able to dance properly for a while now—it’s made practicing for next month’s tournament much easier.”

Donghyuck glances at him with a teasing grin on his face. “You weren’t able to carry Mark hyung’s luggage at the airport two weeks ago and you’ve been dancing for three hours a day? A little funny, don’t you think?”

Yuta flushes at that, and with a meek smile, he explains, “I mean, the doctor said it was okay—of course, as long as I didn’t exert myself too much. And besides, we’ve already changed so many parts here and there so that there isn’t too much strain on my back,” he frowns then, eyebrows furrowing, “which honestly really sucks.”

“Why?” Donghyuck asks quizzically.

Taeyong is the one who answers this time. Without looking away from the book, he says, “There’s this one step he really wanted to do,” he glances up at Donghyuck then, a lazy smirk tugging at a corner of his lips. “I’ll leave it up to your imagination to picture what it was like.”

Donghyuck yelps and throws a rolled up ball of tissue paper at him; it misses entirely and Taeyong snickers, ignoring the scathing glare Yuta sends him.

“You sick freak,” he hisses, shoving roughly at his shoulder. “You’re going to scar the poor kid!” He turns to Donghyuck then, a kind smile on his face. Donghyuck has to bite back a laugh at how quickly his mood can change. “Sorry, Hyuckie, Yongie here is just being a bit of an ass—as always. The step wasn’t as… _intense_ as your hyung makes it out to be either, so don’t mind him.”

He promptly ignores the beseeching pout Taeyong has on and instead pulls the cookbook more towards himself, busying himself with examining its contents thoroughly. Taeyong says something—something that is supposedly quite provoking, if how Yuta bristles angrily is anything to go by—and it escalates from there. Donghyuck tunes out what they’re actually saying and instead takes advantage of their predicament to closely examine the couple.

He starts with Taeyong.

Now, while Mark may have had the hots for Yuta ( _and still does, apparently_ , a spiteful voice in his head provides helpfully) and while his sexual awakening started with him, Donghyuck’s started with Taeyong. (He finds himself thinking that they’re quite the power couple in that sense.)

He doesn’t clearly remember how it all had begun, but all of a sudden one day he had started to notice how stunning Taeyong was for someone at that age, when everyone else looked like they had been run over by a truck some twenty times; how Donghyuck felt a tad bit hot and bothered watching Taeyong dance on the occasions where they’d attend his practice sessions for fun; how he was quite literally forced into gulping as discreetly as he could when Taeyong would run his hand through his soft hair and mess it up.

It definitely didn’t last for as long as Mark’s crush on Yuta—Donghyuck found his head being invaded by thoughts of that sort for a month at most, but he did take away a few things from the experience, the most significant one being the realization that he liked boys.

He still thinks that Taeyong is impossibly good-looking—more so than Yuta, if only slightly. But then Yuta is Yuta, and it is this thought that has Donghyuck’s attention shifting to him.

If there’s one thing everyone with properly functioning eyes can agree on, it’s that Nakamoto Yuta is pretty. Very much so. Donghyuck watches, in awe of the way Yuta’s eyebrows furrow gently at what Taeyong says, the way his lips form perfectly articulated replies, how he breaks into the most beautiful of smiles—although it has a sort of evil edge to it—when Taeyong is unable to come up with a jab that would outdo his and he knows he’s won. His eyes sparkle brightly with a mischievous, childlike glint, and his soft brown hair falls over them in a way that compels you to reach out and gently move them away—only for them to fall back in place.

See, the thing is, even though Donghyuck is _supposed_ to bear malice towards Yuta—you know, because the person he’s so irrevocably in love with is in love with this guy and all that jazz—he just can’t find it in himself to do so. Yuta is an amazing person—he’s kind, funny, smart, empathetic and in general the sort of person who wears his heart on his sleeve for the world to see. He would never be unwilling to sit down with you if you’re having a problem and talk about it well into the night (Donghyuck says this from experience), and he would always be up for a day out; even if he was busy, he would always somehow make time for his loved ones. And on top of all of that, Yuta was extremely talented. He’d been an amazing student throughout his school life, him and Taeyong ran the small bakery that everyone in town loved, and he _danced._ And even though he was slightly clumsy, sometimes too emotional for his own good and from time to time, could be the most prissy person in existence, Donghyuck thinks he’s one of the best people he’s come across in his eighteen-going-on-nineteen years of being on this planet.

“Is there something on my face?”

Donghyuck snaps out of his trance when he hears Yuta’s voice and the alarm tinting it, and only then does it register in his rather slow brain (it’s a weekday, alright?) that throughout his thorough analysis of _things,_ he had been staring at Yuta, who was now gently touching his face, conscious.

“No,” he rushes to explain. Taeyong tries to stifle a laugh but fails miserably, earning himself a somewhat viscous glare in return. “I just don’t understand why you’re throwing a welcome party for Mark _two weeks_ after his arrival.”

“Well, for starters,” Taeyong says, closing the book finally and pushing it off to the side, “this weekend is the only one on which everyone is free. Hansol hyung just finished with his exams and is flying in on Friday.”

Donghyuck’s mouth falls open. “I wasn’t informed about this! What—He’s really coming?”

“We didn’t know until a few days ago, either,” Yuta smiles brightly. “And yes, he’s really coming. He’s squeezing in time just for the party, and that’s a big thing, considering how occupied university keeps him. Taeil hyung is taking Saturday off from school so that he can attend, Kun and Tennie preponed their return from China so that they could make it in time, and… oh, Youngho’s going to be back in town by Thursday.”

“Wow,” Donghyuck breathes (it borders on a wheeze), amazed. “All this fuss just for Mark hyung?”

Yuta shoots him a judgemental glare while Taeyong makes a huge show of coughing violently. He stops though, when Yuta slaps his back a little too aggressively. It makes his last cough sound more like a choke than anything else. Donghyuck winces.

Taeyong gets up to fetch himself a glass of water; with how red his face has become, it really looks like he needs it. Yuta fiddles with the sleeves of his oversized sweater—it looks like he’s deep in thought. Donghyuck observes him for a bit.

“He still likes you, you know,” he blurts out. His eyes widen when he realizes what he just said, but it’d be fruitless to try and explain at this point, for it was apparent that the damage was done and his words had set in.

Taeyong has his back to them, but Donghyuck notices how he tenses at the revelation, shoulders hiking up and body freezing momentarily. Yuta, on the other hand, expresses a little more freely, with how his eyes widen and mouth assumes the shape of a perfect ‘o.’ It might have been Donghyuck’s eyes playing tricks on him, but he thinks for a moment that he sees Yuta’s ears turn a little red.

“Wow,” he chuckles a little breathlessly. “W–Well. Isn’t that interesting?”

Taeyong sets his glass down once he’s done and rejoins their little party at the table. “Should I be worried?” he smiles amicably. And even though it’s a little forced, with that, the tension in the air fizzles away.

“I’m sorry,” he smiles apologetically. “I should’ve kept my mouth shut. It’s just that—since that night, I’ve been feeling so burdened with all these—these _feelings_ , and—and I really needed to get some of it off my chest. I don’t want to worry Jeno anymore, and well, I can’t tell Mark hyung, obviously, and I’m sure the others know that I like him but I really don’t want to test the effectiveness of like… Chenle’s advice or something. That pretty much leaves the two of you. Sorry if I seem like a bother…” he trails off nervously, fidgeting with the napkin laid out in front of him.

Before he even realizes it, a body plops down onto the stool next to his and he doesn’t even need to look up to know who it is—Yuta’s always had this distinct fragrance to him: a mix of vanilla and strawberries. The scent has comforted Donghyuck for nearly ten years now.

The smell intensifies as he’s pulled into a warm embrace, his head tucked safely under Yuta’s chin, into the crook of his neck. “Don’t ever think that. You know you can always come to us—Taeyong and me. We’d always be there for you. We practically raised you,” he jokes, petting his head gently. It elicits a fond snort from Donghyuck—it isn’t completely untrue, come to think of it. He vaguely registers Taeyong taking a seat to his right before Yuta starts speaking again, “Although… I have to say I’m quite offended by the fact that I’m third choice, but I guess we don’t always get what we want.”  

Donghyuck untangles himself from the older’s embrace and slaps his shoulder with no real force, drawing a small laugh from him.

“Hyuck,” Taeyong calls softly from his right. Donghyuck turns to face him and he finds himself caught off guard by the sincerity that the older’s pretty eyes hold. “I don’t mean to rush you, but really, it would be the best for you—and for Mark too—if you stopped running from your feelings and confronted them instead.”

“It’s better to regret doing something than regretting not having tried at all,” Yuta smiles down at him.

Donghyuck groans, head hitting the table again. Yuta yelps, uttering an exasperated _‘Stop doing that!’_  before pulling him upright again.

“Why are you guys so good at this,” Donghyuck mutters defeatedly.

“Practice,” Taeyong answers easily over Yuta’s giggles, grinning at Donghyuck’s disgruntled expression.

“But listen,” he urges, sounding a little more serious this time, “back when I started liking Yuta, I was terrified of the idea of confessing to him. Like, _terrified_ terrified. I was so scared by the notion of being rejected that I put it off for as long as I could—and even though he _supposedly_ liked me back almost the _whole time,_ ” he pauses to glare at his boyfriend, who sends a sweet flying kiss his way, “I had no way of knowing he did because he was surprisingly proficient at masking his emotions. I was completely on my own. But then one day I told myself that I wouldn’t give in without trying at least once, and look how that turned out.”

Donghyuck sighs pitifully, slumping against Yuta with one of Taeyong’s hands in his. “I know, hyung, but it’s just… what if… what if he hates me after that?” he manages weakly.

“And what if he doesn’t?” Yuta probes gently. “Not everything is as negative as it seems right now, Hyuck. Don’t give up.”

Donghyuck closes his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath to stabilise himself. When he opens them, he is met with two encouraging smiles which in turn make him want to grin too, and so he does.

“I’ll still have to give it some thought,” he acquiesces, “but thank you. Seriously guys, thank you so much. I wouldn’t even have gotten this far if it hadn’t been for you two. Thank you.”

Yuta’s grin is almost blinding when he looks at Donghyuck, and it makes Donghyuck’s insides fill with warmth.

“Don’t sweat it,” the older tells him, pulling him in for another quick hug. “But Hyuck, don’t forget,” he says quietly, “You’ll never know if you never try.”

 

* * *

 

Preparations go without a hitch—except for Taeyong and Yuta screaming at each other in the kitchen every once in a while—and they breeze through the days leading up to the event rather quickly; before they know it, twenty-two people are cramped into a house that is far too small for a number of that sort, having the time of their lives.

Well, sort of.

“Do you _ever_ stop talking, hyung?” Donghyuck finds himself questioning exasperatedly, about an hour into the party. For the past fifteen minutes, Ten had been raving on animatedly about the places he had visited during his and Kun’s stay in China which at first had been very entertaining, but soon enough had tired out the small audience he had garnered and left them yawning.

Ten puts a halt to his rambling, looking around at the people in front of him and registering the looks of boredom on their faces disapprovingly. “You lot are no fun,” he complains.  

“How long were you there, again?” Doyoung asks, tone judgmental. “Or did you just have way too much time on your hands? Surely you didn’t forget about why you went there in the first place—you know, for work?”

Ten scoffs at him. “If I’d known that I’d be bullied once I got back, I would have stayed longer.” And with that, he turns around and leaves their little group—probably to talk someone else’s ears off. The crowd he had rounded up disperses eventually; Doyoung and Jaehyun wander off into the kitchen to join Taeyong, Yuta and Johnny, Sicheng takes off after Ten and Donghyuck, along with Jeno and Chenle, leave in search of the rest of their usual group.

They find them by the extra table set up in the corner of the living room that houses a little less than half the food that had been prepared (the rest is in the kitchen, where Taeyong and Yuta can keep an eye on everything), quite unsurprisingly.

Jisung seems delighted to see them, waving his chicken wing in the air excitedly as a form of greeting. Jaemin catches sight of them as well because of the rapid movement and beckons them over with a welcoming grin, and Renjun waves at them with a small smile.

“They really went all out for this one, huh?” Jaemin remarks wondrously once they’re in earshot. He nods towards the center of the room and the sight that greets them only proves his point. The place is _bustling_ with people—probably more than half of everyone in attendance is in there, with the other half in the kitchen, presumably.

Yukhei, who is animatedly playing foosball with Yangyang on the other end of the room, happens to look over and waves happily at them, a blinding smile on his face. The smile quickly falls when Yangyang roughly shoves one of the rods right into his stomach as punishment for his lack of attention; the intensity of the blow makes the six onlookers wince in unison (although Chenle’s sounded more like a snort), especially with how Yukhei is quite literally folding in on himself with the pain.

“The rods aren’t even supposed to _go_ that far,” Donghyuck says warily. “Are they?”

Jeno shakes his head, expression grave. “That table’s always been slightly wonky. I’m pretty sure it was collecting dust up in the attic until about two days ago.”

“Hey,” Renjun butts in suddenly. “This entire thing,” he gestures illustratively towards the room, “is for Mark hyung, right? So why the _hell_ has the dude for whom the party is being thrown not even shown up yet?”

“Beats me,” Jeno shrugs, more absorbed in pouring himself some punch than anything else. “Probably sifting through his hundred million snapbacks to find which one suits the occasion the best.”

“We all have our phases,” Jaemin defends kindly. A small smile spreads across his face then. “Let’s not even getting started on all of yours. Oh, remember that time when—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Jeno hisses, flicking Jaemin’s forehead harshly. It draws a loud whine from him, and soon they’re engaged in a mostly harmless tussle, to absolutely nobody’s surprise.

“Where _is_ Mark hyung though?” Jisung asks around a mouthful of chicken. Donghyuck shrugs in response, and then points towards the bone the younger has his hand wrapped firmly around. “Is that good?”

Jisung grins, nodding furiously before reaching behind him and grabbing one for Donghyuck. He accepts it gratefully, and is about to take a bite when a loud shout resonates within the room and everyone present suddenly swarms towards the entrance into the living room all at the same time.

“What—?” Jeno mumbles, confused.

“Prolly Marf hung,” Jisung replies, voice muffled by his chicken.

“What?” Donghyuck repeats, eyebrows furrowed.

“‘Probably Mark hyung,’” Chenle translates without looking up from where he’s sifting through the food on the table in search of a new item which would soon fall victim to his abnormally sharp teeth.

“Oh. Well, shouldn’t we—shouldn’t we go as well, then?” Donghyuck questions hesitantly.

Jisung swallows his mouthful and points towards the crowd with the rest what’s left on his bone. “Do you really want to be a part of _that_?”

Donghyuck pulls a face, inching away slowly from where the younger is waving his bone about a little too excitedly. “Okay fine, Bossy Boots, I was just asking. And stop doing that, would you? It’s disgusting.”

Jisung makes a show of of shoving the bone into Donghyuck’s face before pulling back with a wince and a quiet _sorry_ when the older smacks his head harshly.

“Sungie’s right, though,” Renjun says thoughtfully. “After the pleasantries are over and done with, Mark’s ultimately gonna end up here, so we’re going to see him soon either way. Might as well wait it out.”

They catch sight of the life of the party for the first time then, and to say that Mark looks overwhelmed would be an understatement. His cheeks and the tips of his ears are a matching red—so blatantly so that it’s visible from the distance at which Donghyuck and the rest stand. The insane amount of attention being concentrated on him is the reason behind his embarrassment: Yukhei (he seems to be alright now, although too much core movement still makes him wince) and Hansol both have their arms thrown around him from either side; Taeyong is ruffling his hair from where he stands behind him; Kun and Ten have both claimed a cheek each and seem to be having a bit of a competition over who can pull harder, and everyone else is doting over him in one way or the other. That is, until, Youngho shoves everyone away (he doesn’t really touch anyone, much less shove them—he’s too kind for that) and without a word, picks Mark up to twirl him around a couple of times. The crowd claps tumultuously and the absurdity of the situation makes the six on the other end of the room laugh and join in on the applause as well.

Donghyuck watches all of this play out in front of him with a small, loving smile on his face, his heart bursting with affection for everyone in his room at this point—his friends. His _family_.

He has a feeling that the entire ordeal will go down as one of the the group’s most memorable moments—there are many factors that would make it one. The whole thing seems kind of surreal to Donghyuck. If he was told a month ago that in a few days he’d be witnessing this, he wouldn’t stop to even assess the likelihood of the situation. Just the fact that all twenty-two of them would at one point be cooped up in a room as they are now would seem impossible to him. But here they are, each one of them in one place—after God knows how long—laughing, shouting, and so damn _happy._

Donghyuck doesn’t remember the last time he had experienced this type of joy. That is, perhaps, one of the main reasons behind his belief that today’s events would remain in his mind as a fond memory that would bring a smile whenever looked back on. Another is probably the person who’s brought them together in the first place.

Donghyuck thinks Mark looks beautiful right now.

His face is flushed, a slightly shaky but still pretty smile adorning it. He keeps looking down nervously (he’s still in the air), and one might think that he would want nothing more but to get out of the predicament he’s landed himself in, but Donghyuck knows that that’s probably the last thing on Mark’s mind right now. The pure, joyous sparkle in his beautiful eyes gives him plenty reason to think so.

And then, Mark just happens to look his way. For a few agonizingly long seconds, they simply stare at each other, until something else catches Mark’s attention and he is forced to look away. Donghyuck clears his throat and averts his gaze, quickly scanning the room once to see if someone had caught on to their little interaction.

Jeno looks back at him with that antagonizingly all-knowing look that always glints in his eyes when he’s onto something. He sidles up to him sneakily. Donghyuck really wants nothing more than to run away.

He jumps slightly when he feels an arm drape casually over his shoulders. Jeno’s scent—which has been a constant source of comfort for him ever since they were kids—has never felt as stifling as it does now when it floods Hyuck’s senses.

“Are you going to go up to him yourself or do I need to _accidentally_ lock you both in the bathroom together?” Jeno mutters quietly, an amicable smile plastered onto his face so as to ward off any suspicion.

“Please don’t,” Donghyuck replies plaintively, the thought of being cooped up in a room (a _bathroom,_  at that) with Mark terrifying him to no end. “I’ll get around to it eventually, just—”

Jeno pats his shoulder comfortingly in response. “Don’t worry, I won’t actually do that. But think about it, Hyuck, tonight’s the perfect time to do it.”

“When he’s going to be surrounded by hordes of people at all times?” Donghyuck replies sceptically.

“I—”

“Guys?” Chenle butts in, effectively cutting off Jeno’s speech (Donghyuck couldn’t be more thankful). “I don’t mean to interrupt because I’m sure you’re talking about something Super Important™ and Top Secret™ and Highly Confidential™ and—”

“...will you get to the point?”

“Oh, yeah! Um—it doesn’t look like Mark hyung’s gonna be free to come over anytime soon, so we were thinking we’d go over ourselves and wait our turn,” Chenle finishes, a brilliant smile etched onto his face.

Jaemin is already making his way over to the crowd a few feet away with Renjun at his heels, and Jisung seems ready to leave as well; the only reason he’s hanging back is probably to wait for Chenle. Donghyuck and Jeno exchange quick glances before scurrying to catch up with younger, who had turned around and walked off without waiting for a response.

Donghyuck eventually stops behind a thick mop of fluffy auburn hair which he recognizes to be Yuta’s; he slings an arm around the older who startles at first, but soon relaxes when he’s greeted by Donghyuck’s bright smile.

They go back to admiring the chaos in front of them, and as Donghyuck scans the small crowd, he finds a pair of twinkling black eyes boring right into his own.

 _‘Give me some time,’_ he mouths beseechingly at his best friend, who, in spite of the frown tainting his pretty face, nods in reluctant understanding. Jeno gives him one last meaningful look before turning back to the crowd.

Donghyuck sighs. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, and after a deep breath, opens them resolutely.

He knows what he has to do.

 

* * *

 

It’s nearing midnight when the evening’s events start to take its toll on everyone; exhaustion spreads like a virus amongst the guests and soon the omnipresent thrum of activity that had persisted throughout the night dwindles until it’s just a faint but comforting buzz.

Some of the energetic ones are still prancing about (how they have the energy do that, nobody knows), and, a stark contrast to that—Chenle and Jisung have fallen asleep on the couch. Jeno has somehow squeezed into the limited space between their feet and the armrest (where Jaemin is perched, looking as fresh as a daisy) and his condition doesn’t seem any better: he looks like he’s going to nod off any second. Renjun, on the other hand, has passed out on the floor (how did he even get there), and a passing Kun, feeling pity for the boy, arranges for him a makeshift pillow out of a free beanbag (that he _accidentally_ shoved Johnny off of) before continuing on his merry way. Ten appears from the kitchen and trails behind him like some sort of obedient puppy and together they slip out into the balcony where Hansol, Taeil, Jaehyun, Doyoung and Yukhei were admiring the view and basking in the (horribly cold) night breeze (or dozing off, either of the two). Sicheng and Jungwoo join them not more than five minutes later, and Johnny, after lazing around on the floor for a few more minutes, decides that his choice of activity is too boring and waltzes out the door to the balcony instead.

Donghyuck watches all of this happening from the safety of his own beanbag, wondering how the _hell_ a balcony that small can fit ten people. He shakes his head and scans the room once, gaze settling on the foosball table on the other end, where Yangyang and Hendery seem to be having the most intense foosball match in history. Xiaojun, who has made himself comfortable on the floor in front of the table, is supposed to be the referee, Donghyuck assumes, but it looks like he’s far more interested in dozing off rather than refereeing. Not that the other two seem to care—they’re far too caught up in their own world to pay heed to anything outside of it. Donghyuck has a hunch that their little game isn’t going to end anytime soon, and so he looks away, deciding to check in on them once later to make sure nothing’s broken.

After making a number of embarrassingly slow calculations, Donghyuck realizes that the life of the party is nowhere to be seen. He breaks out into a cold sweat when he realizes that the conditions are perfect for him to drag Mark away without anyone suspecting anything. But for that, he needs to find him first.

With much difficulty, Donghyuck brings himself to leave the comforts of his beanbag. Once he’s completely upright, he stretches his arms, dusts his trousers and thinks. Realizing that it had been a while since he’d last been to the kitchen, he decides to start from there.

Oh, how he wishes he hadn’t ignored the sounds.

“Oh my _freakin’_ God.”

Taeyong and Yuta have the decency to look embarrassed (and quite scandalised, as well) before they scramble to get as far away from each other as possible.

“Jesus _Christ,_ Hyuck!” Taeyong groans, running a hand through his already messy hair (courtesy of Yuta). “Couldn’t you have—oh, I don’t know— _k_ _nocked_?”

“Before entering the _kitchen?_ ” Donghyuck shrieks, mortified. “No, hyung, I couldn’t have, because last I checked, the kitchen was for eating _food,_ not—you know what? Forget it! I’m just gonna leave. As you were!”

He throws one last—somewhat disgruntled—look at Yuta’s disheveled state and Taeyong’s frustrated countenance before wheeling around and speeding out of the kitchen in a way that would make his track coach back at school immensely proud. He ignores the faint call of _“Hyuck!”_ that floats after him (it might just be his mind, but he swears he hears a few laughs too) in favour of getting as far away from the kitchen as he can.

When he stops to catch his breath, he finds himself in the secluded hallway that stretches from the bottom of the staircase to a wall opposite to it. Donghyuck has never been too sure as to why this place existed; the only purpose it held was that it hosted a bathroom that was within convenient proximity of everything in the living room. Apart from that, he never found it very useful. But Taeyong and Yuta had really touched the place up, to say the least—the wall that indicated the end of the hallway had been the most unobtrusive thing in existence when they first moved in, but over the years, it garnered a number of precious photos framed beautifully in intricately designed faded-blue frames. The décor, and the fact that both Taeyong and Yuta are ridiculously photogenic, made the sight a rather pleasant one to look at. Although Donghyuck thinks they’re unnecessarily… _all-over-each-other_ (honestly, there’s so much _room,_ why the _hell_ are they so close) in nearly all of the photos, he understands that the corner serves as some sort of safe haven, although the bathroom—of all rooms—situated right next to it cancels out its effect a little.

Speaking of the bathroom, Donghyuck thinks he could do with washing his face once with some ~~holy~~  cold water (as torturous as that sounds) to clear the clutter in his mind a little. He pushes himself off of the wall he was leaning against and is about to place a hand on the doorknob when the door suddenly swings open.

Donghyuck stares dumbly at Mark as he emerges from the bathroom, and Mark stares back just as dumbly. This goes on for a bit, until Donghyuck realizes that the hand he had raised to turn the doorknob was hanging frozen in the air and quickly lets it fall back to his side. This snaps Mark out of his daze as well, and Donghyuck wishes that the interaction that will follow won’t be as awkward as he predicts it will be.

His hopes are thrown out of the window when Mark clears his throat because _that can never mean anything good._

“Hey,” he says, a small smile on his face.

“Hi,” Donghyuck replies.

The silence that follows is anything but comfortable, and that only makes the voice (that sounds eerily similar to Jeno’s) screaming at him in his head sound more profound.

 _‘Now is the_ **_perfect_ ** _time. Do it. Do it. Do it.’_

“So, uh… how’re you liking the party?”

_‘Oh, for the love of God!’_

Mark’s laugh sounds the slightest bit hoarse when it slips past his lips, but there is genuineness tinting it that overpowers anything and everything else. “Words can’t say how much I loved it. How much I _am_ loving it. Thank you guys. I mean, you’re the only one here right now but—you know what I mean.”

Donghyuck chuckles. “Yeah, I do.”

The quiet doesn’t seem as suffocating this time around, but the voice is back in his head, and although Donghyuck appreciates its efforts in giving him the courage to just get it out there, its methods of doing so don’t seem nearly as encouraging.

 _‘You complete, absolute, 100%, branded, first-class, of-the-best-quality_ **_idiot._ ** _See, this is the problem with you—you’re a goddamn wimp. You couldn’t even tell mum that you were the one who finished the last few cookies the other day. Oh, and let’s not even get started on—’_

“Hey, hyung?”

“Hmm?”

Donghyuck takes a deep breath.

“I like you.”

Donghyuck realizes that Mark sounds kind of like an overtly excited seal when he’s choking.

“You— _what?_ ”

Although his reaction is somewhat detrimental to Donghyuck’s resolve, he decides he won’t let himself be too easily shaken. And so, he is about to repeat his confession, loud and clear.

Mark, however, beats him to it. “Wait, ‘like’ as in _like_ like, right? Like, _that_ type of ‘like’? Like _that_ one?”

“I think you just made a record. You said ‘like’ six times in one sentence. Bravo,” Donghyuck says wrly. He hopes his act of unperturbedness covers up to some extent the shaking of his hands and the slight quiver in his voice. “But yes, hyung, that type of ‘like.’

“Oh,” Mark articulates softly. _“Oh.”_

Donghyuck nods shakily. “Yeah.”

“Since—Since when?” 

Donghyuck gulps, his voice barely audible when he replies, “Before you left.”

He doesn’t quite understand what to infer from the little gasp Mark lets out. “Hyuck,” he breathes sharply. Donghyuck knows that tone far too well, and he bristles somewhat angrily.

“Look, if you’re going to pity me, I’ll have you know that I don’t need any of that.” Quieter, he goes on, “I’ve already had my fair share of it over the years.”

Mark looks at him with an unreadable expression, but it doesn’t seem as if he’s going to say anything, so he goes on. “Besides, I know you still like Yuta hyung and I also know that I don’t stand a chance, and that’s okay. I’ve come to terms with that. But I—I needed to get it out there. For my own sake. So yeah. Now you know. Now it’s out there.”

Donghyuck wants nothing more than to flee when Mark still doesn’t reply. He can’t quite bring himself to look up from where his gaze is trained on their feet, so he can’t even see Mark’s face. Donghyuck feels as if his senses have been cut off. He thinks it’s the most terrifying feeling he has ever experienced.

“But that’s the thing.”

The softness of Mark’s voice is what makes him look up in surprise, and the look he sees in his eyes as they bore into his catches him off guard, leaving him breathless, confused, bewildered, and a million other things.

“What?” he breathes, his voice coming out as a hoarse whisper.

Mark smiles, a little sadly, walking over to the wall with the pictures. He traces one of the frames delicately, as if even a little pressure would break it. “The more time I spend with or around him—” he starts thoughtfully, “—the more I realize that I’ll never forgive myself if I end up being _that_ guy, you know?”

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow as a silent request for elaboration. It then dawns on him that the other isn’t looking at him, and so he asks inquisitively, “What guy?”

Mark’s voice sounds heart-wrenchingly stricken when he speaks again. And the look in his eyes—Donghyuck doesn’t think he’ll ever forget it.

“The guy that gets in between _this._ ”

The photograph he’s pointing to was taken in the initial part of their relationship, as far as Donghyuck remembers—when Yuta had taken Taeyong to Osaka for the first time, during the holidays. The photo is perhaps the most beautiful one on the wall, the main reason for that being the pure happiness and _love_ that radiates off of it.

It’s wintertime, and judging by the state of their hair, it looks as if the breeze was harsh as it swept by them. Bundled up in layers and layers of clothes to shield themselves from the wind, the two look no less than two atrociously good-looking penguins. Yuta has his hands on Taeyong’s front, fingers gripping the lapels of his jacket tightly, and Taeyong had his hands draped loosely over Yuta’s sides. Their heads are close together, with their red noses touching, and they have the biggest smiles on their faces. The sun is about to set in the background, bathing everything in a golden glow and giving the picture a tinge of serenity. There’s nothing fake about it, it’s all natural and genuine, and perhaps that is what makes it so beautiful.

“They’re too in love with each other to even _think_ about anyone else, Hyuck. They make each other _happy._ I am no one to take that happiness away from them,” Mark concludes quietly.

His admission renders Donghyuck speechless. Each time he opens his mouth to say something, _anything,_ all that comes out is a broken _“I’m—”_ here and a helpless _“Mark hyung—”_ there. He eventually decides to keep his mouth shut in hopes of Mark holding up the conversation instead. He does, in a way, but what he says isn’t quite what Donghyuck was expecting.

“I—” he starts, a noticeable quiver to his voice, “—I know it’s going to be hard, but I think—I think can learn to love again. And I want you to teach me.”

The confession leaves Donghyuck stunned. (And the slightest bit giddy as well).  

And even when they exit the hallway and rejoin the rest—everyone had returned from the balcony by then—for a game of charades, even when Jeno looks over at him with a knowing glint in his eyes and a proud smile on his face, even when Mark slips his hand into his somewhere in the middle of the game—Donghyuck can’t believe how lucky he is.

He watches Mark fondly as the poor kid tries to act out what he was told to act out the best he can, watches him struggle until the tips of his ears turn red from frustration, watches him throw his head back in relief when someone finally gets it right, which he immediately follows up with a glare in Jaemin’s direction when he tells him he can’t act to save a life, watches him laugh loudly at one of Ten’s jokes.

Donghyuck watches all of this, his heart full of love, and finds himself thinking that Mark is the most beautiful person on the planet. He watches as the older boy’s eyes crinkle up at the corners when he grins at Jaemin’s expense—he wasn’t being able to act his turn properly.

Donghyuck squeezes Mark’s hand, his entire being brimming with love when he feels Mark squeeze back. And when he looks back at him, nose and cheeks red from the cold, eyes sparkling and smile beaming, Donghyuck thinks he might be falling in love all over again.

**Author's Note:**

> if you made it this far... i’ve got cookies! 🍪🍪
> 
> but hey, congratulations on making it through this rollercoaster of a fic and reading the entire thing. it means the world to me :’) let me know how you liked it!
> 
> okay this just came to me yesterday, but would you guys perhaps like a yutae-centered sequel? it would justify how... idk “over-glorified” their roles are? and i could tie up some loose ends-like what happens to mark’s career, the rest of the boys graduating, yutae’s back story, etc etc
> 
> but for now, comments and kudos are highly appreciated, as always. show your girl some love pls :’) thank you again for reading! until next time <3
> 
> edit: almost forgot,,, here’s [my curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/shimmeryuta) and [my twitter](https://twitter.com/nayutalented?s=09) so you can yell at me whenever you want! let’s be friends <3
> 
> edit #2: guys, for clarification, mark and donghyuck are NOT a couple at the end of the story! they get together later. where mark says to hyuck that he wants him to teach mark how to love again, he doesn’t mean he wants to start dating right there. the hand squeeze at the end can be interpreted as hyuck saying, “i’ll wait for you,” bc that's how i think of it, but you can interpret it differently as well. that’s all, folks!


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